


The Last Thirty Percent

by TooSel



Category: Suits (US TV)
Genre: Aftercare, Angst, BDSM, Blindfolds, Bondage, Communication Failure, Discipline, Edgeplay, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Impact Play, Knifeplay, M/M, Mutual Pining, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Panic Attacks, Restraints, Sensation Play, Slow Burn, Smut, Spanking, Subdrop, Wax Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-25
Updated: 2018-07-27
Packaged: 2019-05-13 06:47:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 110,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14743949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TooSel/pseuds/TooSel
Summary: When Harvey - his friend, his boss, and the unfortunate object of his attraction - also becomes his dom, Mike dives headfirst into something he only realizes later he never could have anticipated. With the lines they're crossing it's only natural that emotions are running high, but it's all fine. Mike has everything under control.It's just a regular BDSM arrangement. What could possibly go wrong?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [liketwotiedships](https://archiveofourown.org/users/liketwotiedships/gifts).



> This story takes place sometime during the second half of season two and diverges from there. It's dedicated to my friend Lauren, without whose enthusiasm this probably still wouldn't exist. Thank you for giving me the inspiration and motivation to write this, and I really hope it's what you had in mind! <3

It never even crossed Mike’s mind what his words were going to lead to. He didn't know that they would change everything, how they were going to alter his life in ways he couldn't even imagine, not in his wildest dreams.

He had no idea about the avalanche they were going to trigger.

He’s not even sure what brought it on, if it was his sarcastic remark about something Harvey did, the way he straightened and saluted when he told him to watch it, or his almost-but-not-quite joking _yes, Sir_ hanging in the air between them, but he remembers the way Harvey regarded him and muttered, “Look at you. I should introduce you to Jordan, he would love you.”

“Who's Jordan?” Mike asked, not even all that interested in the answer. “A client?”

If Harvey had told him that yes, Jordan was a client, Mike would have let it go and not wasted another thought on the matter. If Harvey had just said yes, Mike would have forgotten all about it and moved on and nothing else would have happened.

But Harvey didn't say yes. Harvey just smirked and looked down, saying nothing at all. And Mike didn't know it at the time, but it was that silence that was going to change everything.

“Harvey?” Mike raised his eyebrows. “Who's Jordan?”

“Get back to work,” Harvey replied, almost managing to conceal the curve of his lips. Almost.

And since then, he has refused to answer. It's simple enough, Mike thinks. It's an easy question, one he even brought upon himself, so it's only fair that he should let Mike in on the secret.

But Harvey won't tell him. All he’s getting are evasive answers and that goddamn smirk plastered on his face.

It won't leave Mike alone.

It's not even the remark itself that's nagging him. It's the look in Harvey's eyes as he said it, the secret smile playing on his lips like he knows something Mike doesn't and it's giving him great joy to withhold the information. Like it’s something big, a secret he could share but chooses not to, instead holding the answer just out of reach where Mike can see but never grasp it as long as Harvey is pulling the strings.

It creates a prickling sensation in his stomach he can't quite explain. And no matter how much Mike tries to keep the feeling at bay, to stop thinking about it and move on, he can't.

So he asks again.

“You need to check page seven,” he's saying, watching Harvey closely, “there might be another loophole we haven't considered. I also went ahead and drafted the complaint already.”

“Good, just leave it here.”

“Yeah. So, who's Jordan?”

Harvey looks up, surprise flashing across his face before he has his features under control again, displaying a smirk that holds the power to drive Mike insane if he lets it. He doesn't.

Yet.

“What makes you think I'm going to tell you now when I didn't before?”

“I don't know. Courtesy? The aching desire to finish what you started and not leave me hanging?”

Harvey snorts. “No.”

Mike sighs and turns, muttering, “Should have known. Courtesy isn't really your thing, is it?”

Harvey's chuckling follows him out of the office. Mike is sure his eyes do too, but he doesn't turn around to check.

The next time he tries is in the middle of a case, and Mike thinks he can catch Harvey off guard when he drops the question right after a bunch of others, but Harvey just smirks at the files on his desk, not even looking at Mike when he tells him to get back to work.

So Mike changes his strategy.

“That something Jordan would like too, huh?” he asks when Harvey laughs at something in hopes of getting more information out of him. Harvey's eyes bore into his with a startling intensity when he tells him, his voice laced with amusement, “You have no idea what Jordan likes, trust me.”

Which tells Mike nothing at all. No matter from what angle he comes at Harvey, the man doesn't cave.

_What makes you think Jordan would like me?_

_You guys are good friends, huh? Known each other long?_

_So, you talked to Jordan lately?_

_Can't you at least introduce us after bringing him up? It's only polite, dude._

Nothing.

Except the smug smiles and the long looks and the heat flaring up in Mike's stomach whenever he catches them. Except the vague feeling that Harvey is enjoying this, _wants_ him to ask, without ever intending to reply. It's twisted and pointless, and logically Mike knows that Harvey is doing nothing to encourage the questions, but he can't shake the feeling that Harvey is driving him to keep going, that the curve of his lips screams approval, daring him to go on, to keep digging.

Talk about far-fetched.

Then again, if Harvey really wanted him to stop asking, he would say so. He doesn't have any qualms about telling him off, and the fact that he never does, no matter how often Mike brings it up, has to mean something.

It's almost a game at this point, one he doesn’t seem to know how to stop playing.

He could get out, of course. Stop asking and move on, quash the prickling in his belly and go back to ignoring it the same way he did before.

But Mike doesn't want that. Yes, his attraction to Harvey is inconvenient, but he can handle it. Even now that it's much more persistent, now that he’s started thinking about it instead of forcing it down, now that he actively chases the feeling it offers, a hint of what could be, a whisper of something he longs for more than he realized.

Like foreplay, only without knowing if there will ever be a follow-up.

Well, he does know. There won't be.

But it's fun to pretend.

And it's fun for almost two weeks. It's late at night when their game finally comes to a head, when they both decide to stop playing and start getting serious, and Mike has the distinct feeling that this is what it took to get there, that this isn't a conversation they could have had in broad daylight.

They had a big win in court today, and while it's gotten late, neither of them seems inclined to leave just yet. The firm is nearly deserted. It’s quiet around them, and inside Harvey's office it feels like it's just the two of them, working side by side as the night progresses.

They are finishing the last of the paperwork, enjoying the drinks Harvey has poured them at some point. There is an almost intimate air to it, the two of them working together long after everyone else has left. Mike likes the way it makes him feel close to Harvey, even more so when they put the work aside and just continue sitting there, enjoying the quiet companionship. He thinks that Harvey is going to send him home any minute now, almost dreads it, but the words never come.

Instead Harvey breaks the silence to say something entirely different. “You did well today, Mike.”

It's not often that he praises him so readily, and the fact that there isn't a trace of irony in his voice makes Mike flush with pride. Harvey's eyes are on him, probably seeing all the treacherous signs of how much the simple praise means to him, but Mike doesn't feel the need to hide.

He never hides from Harvey. It's probably going to be his downfall one day.

“You gave me the smoking gun,” he points out.

“Because I knew you'd be able to handle it. You were ready to do this, you just needed someone to show you the way.”

“Which you were happy to do.”

“Which I was happy to do,” Harvey agrees.

“Guess that's why we work so well together, you and I.”

“We do.”

Mike swallows in the silence following their words, knowing that his face must be entirely too revealing, but he feels transfixed by Harvey's eyes, the weight of his gaze holding him in place. He can't make himself look away, but Harvey doesn't say anything, doesn't offer as much as a word. Maybe he doesn't mind.

Maybe he can't look away either.

The silence grows heavier, weighing down on Mike with every breath, but it's not oppressive. It's full to the brim with what they aren't saying, what Mike still can't make sense of, and suddenly he's desperate to know, just this once, what it is that's going through Harvey's head when he looks at him like that, when he doesn't speak but chooses silence instead.

Mike clears his throat, and he sees in Harvey's eyes that he knows what's coming. Which is strange, because there is nothing indicating what he is about to say, what's running through his head that moment for reasons he doesn't understand himself, but Mike can see that Harvey knows anyway, and so neither of them is surprised when he asks, “Harvey. Who is Jordan?”

The question hangs between them, heavy and so much more loaded than Mike intended, loaded with a meaning he doesn't understand but desperately craves to, with all the things Harvey hasn't told him, with his silences and long looks and the secretive smile Mike sees before him when he closes his eyes.

He doesn't know what he expects, but he knows that this is different. This is not work, this is just Harvey and Mike and impalpable momentum weighing the air down between them. This is Harvey stopping the game and just taking Mike in as he considers the question, and this time he doesn't wave him off, this time he just looks at him, and he looks, and Mike holds his breath, trying to preserve whatever it is he's seeing.

The glass clicks when Harvey puts it on the table. Mike watches the scotch lapping against the walls, the surface trembling until the waves even out.

Harvey still hasn't said a word. He is silent when Mike looks up to meet his eyes. He is silent when he shifts, struggling to reconcile the urge to drop his gaze and to keep staring into Harvey's eyes because what he finds there is too intriguing to pass up on.

Finally, he says, “He's a dom. The best there is.”

Mike's breath hitches. Harvey's voice is low, almost rough, but that's not what catches his attention. It’s the words he never thought he'd hear but some part of him still seemed to expect because his stomach prickles like he's been _waiting_ for this, rejoicing at the term he instantly recognizes and responds to. Mike doesn't let any of it show, too aware of Harvey's eyes on him, of the significance of this moment. The ball is in his court now. How this game continues is up to him.

A thousand things run through Mike’s head, but eventually he settles on, “How do you know that?”

The change in Harvey's posture is the only indication of his surprise at Mike's reaction, or lack thereof. “How do you know what I'm talking about?” he counters.

Driven by a sudden bout of boldness, Mike holds Harvey's gaze and says, “How do you think?”

Harvey regards him silently, the moment stretching for so long that Mike almost doesn't believe he'll get an answer anymore.

Finally, Harvey seems to come to a decision.

“You do that regularly?”

Mike shrugs. “Not in a while.” His heart pounds as he licks his lips. “I'd like to, though.”

Harvey shifts almost imperceptibly. He fixes Mike with a stare, letting the silence stretch almost unbearably before he mutters, “Is that so.”

The words send a shiver down Mike's spine he barely manages to suppress. It's not even really a question, but he nods anyway.

“Yeah.” He swallows. “What about you? You do that a lot?”

Harvey almost smiles. “Not in a while,” he echoes.

He doesn't offer more, but he keeps looking at him. He’s got to know what's coming.

“And- would you like to?”

Silence again. Harvey reaches for his glass, not taking it, just touching. His finger glides over the rim. Mike's nerves are strung to breaking point as he watches, waits.

“I would.”

The air escapes his lungs quietly.

“Huh,” he says, sitting back.

His head is swimming, but he still feels perfectly sharp. They just discovered a whole new range of possibilities, hanging between them. All they’d have to do is reach out. Harvey doesn't take the initiative, and neither does Mike for the moment, but one of them is going to have to come out and say it, so he takes heart and asks, “Would you like to do it with me?”

He knows that he just opened a door to somewhere they may never be able to return from. But he feels daring, emboldened by Harvey's gaze and the alcohol coursing through his system, and right now he doesn't _want_ to go back. He wants to push further, wants to feel around this new common ground they found and see how far it reaches.

He may regret this tomorrow. He may regret this in a minute when Harvey makes a snide remark or tells him to forget it because it's insane and of course he doesn’t want that, what the hell was he thinking?

But the door is unlocked now. It's out in the open, it's voiced, they put a name on it and there is no going back from that.

Mike listens to the silence his words brought with them, to the breath Harvey draws, watches the minute shifts of his expression as they look at each other, and it startles him how thrilled he is. How his hair stands on end, how the heat building in his stomach burns through him until he can barely breathe.

Like foreplay, indeed.

“We shouldn't.”

Harvey's voice is low and entirely too seductive, the rejection wrapped in layer after layer of temptation. Mike exhales slowly.

“That doesn't answer my question.”

Harvey tilts his head, the hint of a smile on his lips.

“Doesn't it?”

 _Touché_ , Mike thinks. The ball's back in his court. Part of him is distantly amused that he's the one moving things along considering what they are talking about here, but most of him is too caught up in the thick tension and sheer, naked _want_ he feels to care.

He shouldn't. He knows he shouldn't. But there is no way in hell he isn't going to.

“Me too.”

Harvey doesn't say anything, doesn't move to show that he heard him or that he's happy about his response. He doesn't react at all, the only indication that he's following that damn intense gaze burning a hole into Mike's skull.

“I mean, it fits, right? I'm a sub looking for a dom. You're a dom – unless I got that wrong – looking for a sub. We know each other, we know we work well together, what more could you ask for? It doesn't have to be this big thing. It can just be... fun.”

He knows it's dangerous. He knows he shouldn't be so ready to dive headfirst into this without considering the outcome. But Mike has never been all that great at impulse control, and when an opportunity like this is handed to him on a silver platter, how can he be expected to pass it up?

Harvey takes a long time before he speaks. Mike imagines him carefully considering his options, weighing his words, thinking of how to best proceed because surely, if he didn't want this, he would have said so already.

“You didn't get it wrong.”

Mike blinks, but Harvey barely grants him a moment to catch up on his meaning. He rises from his seat, draining his glass.

“It's late, Mike. I'll see you tomorrow.”

It's not what he hoped for, not agreement in any way, but it’s not rejection either, and Mike nods because, considering that he could have just said no and been done with this, he can't ask for more.

“I'll see you tomorrow,” he says, finishing his scotch before putting the glass down next to Harvey's, lingering in his orbit for the span of a heartbeat before he withdraws and turns to leave.

*

Mike immediately shuts his eyes again when he wakes up the next morning.

_What the hell?_

His brain bombards him with snippets from last night until he groans, pressing his palms against his lids in an attempt to block the images from the outside.

He can't believe yesterday happened. He can't believe his own _audacity_. What was he thinking, propositioning his boss like that? He didn't even consider the consequences for his job, for his friendship with Harvey, for their working environment...

Well, he considered nothing except that it felt good at the time. More than good, it felt exciting. Right. Like it was a moment existing in its own bubble, entirely separate from the outside world, but now Mike isn't even sure if he didn't make the intensity of Harvey's gaze up in the shadows of the dimly lit office. Maybe he was emboldened by the night, but now he's in broad daylight again, and the fact that they actually had this conversation is just too much to process.

Even though it went nowhere. Even though it's entirely unresolved, hanging in the air between them, just waiting for either of them to grab it or blow it away until it’s like it was never there at all.

Mike releases a slow breath before he forces himself out of bed, because agonizing about it is going to accomplish nothing, and there is no need to complicate things further by showing up late.

His state of slightly dazed disbelief remains throughout the day, and it's only fueled by the fact that they go on as if nothing happened.

Harvey doesn't seem inclined to grab or blow away anything, instead he’s apparently determined to simply ignore it, and Mike certainly isn't going to be the one to initiate that conversation again. Not a chance.

So he returns Harvey's greeting and accepts his work for the day, searching his face for something, anything, and finally turns away when he finds nothing.

At least it's not awkward. It's simply as if their conversation never happened, which is... a letdown, if Mike is honest, but he can work with that. It's just like any other day. Harvey even makes a joke at one point, and Mike shoots back easily, relieved by how easy it is to be normal, determinedly quashing the disappointment welling up in him.

They fall back into their rhythm, and it really feels as if that night never happened, because Harvey shows no signs of having any memory of it at all.

Really, it's unnerving. Mike almost starts to believe that Harvey forgot about their conversation, or at the very least just dismissed it. He tries to convince himself that it's for the better, with the way they are already entangled. No need to complicate things.

So maybe Harvey forgot. As for him? He doesn't think he could ever forget, even if he didn't have his memory.

And it's not even that anything happened. Nothing except for the brief possibility of something so forbidden and exciting it makes his heart pound just to think about it.

But if that's all he's going to get, he'll take it. It takes him a few days, but Mike makes his peace with it and decides to move on.

Harvey, however, has other plans.

Mike should be used to it by now, to him doing things his own way, always getting what he wants, but it still takes him a second to catch up when Harvey drops a contract on his desk and says, “Read it. We'll talk it through at dinner, seven o’clock. If you're still on board, that is. If you aren't, we never need to speak of this again.”

Mike's eyes scan the document, realizing with a start that it's not just any contract. It's _the_ contract.

Should have known Harvey was going to continue playing the game by his own rules. The ball was never in Mike's court, Harvey was holding it the whole damn time.

Mike smiles. He looks up, but before he can say anything, Harvey has already turned and left.

“I'll be there,” Mike says into the quiet.

*

“Yes, I came,” Mike says when Harvey opens the door. He blinks at him.

“I never said you wouldn't.”

“Yeah, you didn't say much at all, did you?”

Mike smirks at Harvey's raised eyebrows. “Anyway, I know you were unsure if I would back out, probably spent all afternoon thinking about it, and are now happy that I came even though you're not letting it show.”

Harvey's eyes narrow. “I am happy that you came. Mostly because it means I will get to spank that kind of attitude out of you soon.”

Mike swallows down the sudden want flaring up in him. He holds Harvey’s gaze, a smile spreading on his lips. “At least give me some food before we go into the details.”

Harvey steps away from the door to let him in, and Mike trails after him, dropping his bag on the counter.

“I gotta say, dinner while going over the contract? That's pretty Fifty Shades of Grey of you.”

Harvey throws him a look that is equal parts incredulity and disdain. “I'm going to pretend you didn't just say that and tell you that if you bring up that name again, this whole thing is over.”

 _Thing_ , Mike thinks, what a way to describe what they are about to do. He grins, asking, “Not a fan either, I take it?”

“Of course not. It has jack shit to do with actual BDSM, spreads harmful misconceptions the general public takes for the truth, and is also just plain bad.”

“Can't argue with that. Do you need any help with dinner?”

“You can peel the potatoes,” Harvey tells him, stirring some sauce on the stove, and Mike nods and gets to work.

They prepare dinner together, and it feels wonderfully effortless, like they didn't just go from the topic of BDSM to casual conversation in the span of a second. It should be weird, shouldn't it? Then again, this is just how it's always been with Harvey. They have never felt ill at ease around each other, and Mike sure as hell doesn't want to start now.

It's way too much fun, this – cooking together, throwing in remarks about the contract as easily as meaningless chatter or discussions about work. It makes Mike feel surer about getting into this than ever, and he can tell from the looks Harvey throws him that it’s the same for him. There's a thread of anticipation weaving through all their interactions, lingering in the gazes they give each other and the brush of their hands as they pass things back and forth, and Mike finds himself craving more of it instantly.

Already he is getting caught up in it, and this thing hasn't even started.

Or maybe it has, quite some time ago, without either of them noticing.

Mike huffs. _This thing_. Now he's starting too. It's like he can't really grasp what they are going to do. It's still too abstract, only a series of images and sensations jumbled in his mind. It's not real yet.

But it's about to be.

They sit down when the potato gratin is in the oven, each of them grabbing their copy of the contract.

“I'd offer you a drink, but I want you sober for this,” Harvey remarks as he flips the first page.

“Like we both were when we first brought this up?” Mike asks, almost shivering at the dangerous glint in Harvey's eyes when they snap up.

“You enjoy being able to do that while I can't punish you for it yet,” he tells him, and damn it, Mike responds to his low voice immediately.

He puts on a mellow smile. “Do what? I'm just stating the facts.”

Harvey hums. “Lippy _and_ canting. That would get you double the punishment.”

This time it's futile trying not to let his arousal show. Harvey's mouth curves up when Mike swallows, licking his lips. “Right. So, should we put that in the contract, or..?”

Harvey's smile fades. “I mean it,” he tells him. “No jokes, no sarcasm. We talk about this seriously, like adults, or I'm calling the whole thing off.”

“Noted.”

Harvey regards him steadily, all traces of amusement gone. “You don't strike me as the type to let yourself be pressured into something, and I can see you're... enthusiastic, but just to be sure – there are no expectations. You don't need to sign this. You can get up right now and leave. You can still get out if you want. You can always get out, even if you end up signing. Nothing is going to happen.”

“Well, what if I want something to happen?”

At Harvey's expression, Mike hurries to add, “Look, I know how this works, okay? I haven't done any BDSM in a while and... yeah, alright, full disclosure, I've only had one arrangement with an actual contract, but I've done my research. I know what I'm getting into, and believe me, there's nothing I want more than for something to... happen.”

Harvey’s shoulders relax. “Good. We're on the same page then.”

He leans back, tapping his pen against the contract. “But we still have a lot to talk about. Doing this means agreeing to terms we're both comfortable with, or comfortable exploring together. The most important thing about this is trust.” He lifts his eyebrows. “So, do you? Trust me?”

Mike nearly scoffs at the question. Does the sun shine? Is water wet? Is Mike inappropriately attracted to Harvey?

“I wouldn't be here if I didn't, would I?”

“That’s not an answer.”

Mike resists rolling his eyes, knowing that Harvey is serious, and while part of him appreciates it, he can't help but feel that the question is redundant. Mike would trust Harvey with his life. He does, in a way. It's obvious, isn't it?

“Yes, I trust you, Harvey. Of course I do. More than anyone. Really, if you don't know that...”

A look of satisfaction passes over Harvey’s face. “I do know. Or at least I hoped. Which doesn't mean that I shouldn't get confirmation. This isn't a game for me, Mike, and it shouldn't be for you either. I take this seriously. I'm not gambling with your safety or my peace of mind for the sake of assuming. A relationship like this requires transparency.”

“I get it, I get it. And this isn't a game for me either. It's just... really, if there's one thing I've always been sure about, it's that there is trust between us. Kinda had to be, right?”

“Yes,” Harvey concedes, tilting his head. “But I like to be thorough.”

Oh, Mike has no problem with that. Harvey's look tells him that he knows exactly what's going through his head, but he doesn't care. Transparency, right? He can do that.

He leans back, cantingly asking, “So, do you trust me?”

He bites back a grin at the look Harvey gives him. “Yes, Mike. I trust you.”

“Good. Glad we got that out of the way.”

Harvey sighs. “You're gonna be a piece of work, aren't you?”

“Don't pretend you don’t like it.”

“Before we get into what I like and don't like, let’s talk about some ground rules. Now that we established the required level of trust is there, I want to make clear what that entails.”

Mike nods. “Shoot.”

“Once this contract is finalized and signed, we will both have the security of knowing that everything about this arrangement stays between us, for the duration of it and after it ends.”

Mike does not want to think about it ending, not when it hasn't even started yet, but he doesn't interrupt, suspecting that his complaints wouldn't be appreciated anyway.

“This is mostly to give us a certain level of protection when it comes to work. Both of us would face dire consequences if this ever came to light, and I'm not just talking about the HR nightmare that would be. So this stays out of the office, nothing that happens here affects either of our jobs, and it never will.”

Mike nods again. Part of him wonders just how often Harvey has had this talk already, how many times he's done this and – most importantly – what happened for it to end. Is that just how this works? Put an expiration date on it and once they reach it, it's over? Or does he simply decide that he's had enough one day and drop whatever sub he just had?

“With that out of the way, we're free to focus on what this is really about,” Harvey says, and Mike shakes any nagging thoughts about him with other subs. Before he can make a guess, Harvey elaborates, “This is about meeting needs. I don't know what kind of experiences you've had, but I want to make clear that it's about yours as much as mine. Ideally, you meeting mine will meet yours, but either way, you’re an active participant in this. I don't want a puppet.”

“That’s good, because you're not getting one.”

“I'm realizing that,” Harvey gives back dryly. “There's something else I want, though. Which may be the most important condition for this to work.”

“Okay,” Mike says, giving him an expectant look.

Harvey regards him quietly. Then he leans in, his eyes so intense that Mike's breath catches in his throat.

“I want the truth. Always. Even if you think I won't like it. _Especially_ then. The terms of this contract are negotiable, but this one isn't. Got it?”

Not what Mike expected, but it’s a reasonable demand. His body doesn't seem to have gotten the memo that they aren't doing a scene yet, because every nerve of his body stands to attention at the tone of Harvey's voice.

“Yes,” Mike agrees, swallowing the s _ir_ on the tip of his tongue. His own voice is hoarse, betraying his inner state. He just promised Harvey the truth though, and his desires are going to come to light sooner or later anyway. Might as well stop hiding them now.

Harvey looks like he wants to smile, but instead just nods.

“Scenes will always and exclusively take place here, inside my apartment,” he continues, and Mike blinks, the spell of the moment broken. “I suggest we check our schedules and figure out what suits us both, but there’s time for that later.”

“How often is this going to happen? I mean, are we talking about regular sessions here or just... whenever we manage to squeeze one in?”

“That's entirely up to you. I'm ready to do this either way, though I prefer a certain regularity to... consolidate the progress.”

Mike swallows against the wave of arousal lapping at him and says, “So basically I get to decide if we do this on the side or... do it seriously.”

“More or less.” Harvey smiles. “I hope you appreciate it. You won’t get to decide much else once you’ve signed this.”

“Mh.”

Harvey’s eyes linger on him before returning to the contract. Mike read it earlier, he knows what's coming next, but that doesn't prepare him for Harvey's voice speaking the words his fantasies are made of in the slightest.

“Now, as for the specifics, I already mentioned spanking and since you haven't objected so far, I assume that's fair game. I generally make use of the common discipline techniques, impact play, bondage and the like, but you're free to object to any of them if it's a hard limit, of course. If you figure that out during a scene, do not hesitate to use your safeword.”

“I won’t.”

Harvey nods. “The marks I leave on you will always be superficial. No permanent damage, no broken bones, no scarring. Bruises, aches, and residual pain after scenes may occur, but you will always be able to go about your day as usual. I like to use pain for both play and punishment, but trust me, you'll know the difference.”

Oh, Mike can't wait to find out.

“Now, I may do things you won't like in that particular moment, but I’ll still remain someone you can look to for guidance if you need it. Like I said, trust is essential for this, and while some people enjoy induction of fear or humiliation, that's not what I thrive on.”

“That suits me just fine, since I have no interest in either of that.”

“Good. This way, you will always have the security of knowing that you're safe while I'm in charge, physically and emotionally.”

Harvey writes something down, then asks, “Any other hard limits you're aware of?”

“Needles,” Mike says immediately. “Never tried it, but I have no desire to change that. Nothing else that I know of, but if I realize something along the way...”

“We’ll figure it out together,” Harvey finishes. “Very well. You can call for a stop anytime. You don't have to submit to anything that actively repels you, that's not the point. This may be a power exchange, but you will still have control, always.”

Mike nods. “I can safeword out at any time, I know the drill.”

Harvey's eyes linger on the contract before he looks back up, straight at Mike.

“Then you'll also know about what’s coming up next, but it bears repeating. This doesn't have to include sex.”

Mike’s pulse speeds up. “What if I want it to?”

Something passes over Harvey's face, too fast for Mike to catch, but he's almost sure it was satisfaction.

“Not straight, then?” he inquires idly.

Mike snorts. “No. Neither are you, I take it?”

“No.”

“Right.”

“Right,” Harvey echoes, his eyes boring into him. “So you're in favor of including sexual activity.”

“Guess I am,” Mike says, trying not to choke on the blatant understatement.

“In that case, I decide when, what, and how often. I like to view sex as a reward for good behavior, but don't think I can't make it a lesson for you. I may include it in your discipline or punishment, though the rules of safe, sane and consensual always apply, of course. How do you feel about come play?”

Mike gulps. Harvey must know that the sudden question caught him off guard, if the smirk on his face is any indication.

“It's fine,” he says after a beat.

“Good. We're both getting tested, then.”

Mike opens his mouth to agree, then shuts it when something occurs to him. He narrows his eyes.

“Does that mean we aren't allowed to have sex with other people?”

Not that Mike wants to, with access to Harvey Specter's bedroom. He's actually fairly certain he's going to be spoiled for anyone else once this thing gets rolling, but that is not something Harvey needs to know. His ego is already big enough.

“If you want to have sex, go ahead. What you do in the time between our scenes is entirely up to you. But I trust you to do the responsible thing and use protection at any given time.”

“Oh. Right.”

He quashes the slight disappointment welling up in him. Of course Harvey wants to have sex with other people. And why shouldn't he?

“Is that acceptable to you?”

Taking in Harvey’s frown, Mike hurries to school his features into a neutral expression. “Of course. Suits me just fine.”

“Alright.”

Harvey flips a page, and Mike forces his mind back on the matter at hand. And it's a good thing he does, because that's when they really go into it, discussing practices and implements in detail as they add to and strike from the contract.

The seriousness Harvey tackles this with makes everything that much more intense. Mike tries to shake the sensation coming over him and finds that he can't, too caught up in the images Harvey raises in his mind with that damn seductive voice.

They're negotiating, for god's sake. This is practically what they do for a living. It shouldn't feel like... foreplay.

Almost an hour has passed when they finally reach the last thing on Harvey's list, and Mike’s head is swimming with all the input.

“While we're doing a scene, you are not to address me by my name. I generally prefer sir. Master is fine, though I'm not interested in a Master/slave arrangement. If you ever call me Daddy, _I_ will safeword out of the scene.”

Mike chuckles. “Noted.”

Satisfied, Harvey nods. “Now, what's your safeword?”

“Louis.”

Harvey snorts, and for a second the strange tension between them is broken. “No,” he says.

Mike sighs.

“Fine. Veritas,” he decides after a beat. He likes the double meaning the world holds, and it’s not something likely to come up.

Harvey gives him a long look, but nods. “Alright.”

He writes it down, as if either of them would forget the most vital word that's going to exist between them from now on, then puts the contract on the table.

“Are we done?”

“For now. We can always come back and renegotiate if either of us feels the need to.” He fixes Mike with a stern look. “ _Don't_ hesitate to ask for that.”

“I won't,” Mike promises, putting his contract down as well. It looks inconspicuous, like it doesn't hold the key to his deepest desires.

Mike shakes the thought. Later. Clapping his hands, he says, “Well, that was great. Can we have dinner now?”

Harvey gives him an amused smile, getting up from his seat. “Impatient, are we? Come on, let's set the table. It should be ready any minute.”

“Thank god,” Mike sighs, trailing after him. “All this talking left me starving.”

Dinner, as it turns out, is fantastic. The gratin is much better than anything Mike ever cooks for himself – save for the famous pasta recipe his Grammy passed on to him – and he takes pride in having played no small part in creating this, never mind that Harvey did most of the seasoning.

“So, when do we begin?” he asks over his second serving.

“We can start whenever,” Harvey says. “As soon as we sign the finalized contract, we're good to go.”

“Great. How about next week?”

Harvey nods. “Fine by me. Have you thought about how often you want to do this?”

They left that out of the contract for now, but Mike has already made his decision.

“Definitely regularly,” he replies, trying not to sound too eager, and Harvey's lips curve up.

“What do you usually do with your Friday nights?”

“You mean once we actually manage to leave the office? I don't know, not much. Go out now and then, I guess. Sometimes I hang out here. Nothing I couldn't postpone. What about you?”

“Same here. Sometimes I have this annoying kid hanging out at my apartment, but otherwise... nothing I couldn't postpone,” Harvey echoes. “Then what do you say, we schedule our scenes for Fridays around... eight?”

“Sounds good. What if something work-related comes up?”

“Then we’ll have our scene the next day.”

“Sure,” Mike agrees. His eyes catch on Harvey's, who gives him a slight smile. To cover up the shiver running down his spine, he takes another bite and sighs.

“This is so fucking good.”

“Did you expect anything else?”

“Well, I didn't expect it to be shit, but I didn't know you were actually capable of making something like this.”

“You'll be surprised to find out what I'm capable of,” Harvey tells him, and Mike halts briefly before he resumes his eating.

“You're very sure of yourself.”

“Of course I am. I'm good at everything I do.”

“Well, maybe you'll be surprised to find what _I'm_ capable of.”

“Oh, I have no doubts about that.”

Mike looks up to meet Harvey's eyes, the corner of his mouth lifting when he finds no mockery in his gaze.

“Well, I look forward to it.”

“So do I.”

Mike hides his smile by taking another bite.

“Hey, you never watched that DVD I gave you, did you?”

“Not yet. Unlike some people I actually work from time to time, you know.”

Mike snorts. “Yeah, sure. Like I don't know which one of us stays longer and does all the shit work every day because the other can't be bothered to take care of it.”

“Are you trying to imply something?”

“Are you trying to deny it?”

And just like that they are back to their usual banter. They finish dinner, and Mike stays for a drink afterwards that quickly turns into another one and a movie, and by the time he leaves it's long past midnight and the buzz the negotiations created in his head has eased.

So this is it. He hasn't signed yet, but Harvey promised to get the contract to him by Monday. Mike is more than ready. He wants this in a way he has rarely wanted anything, and to think that he is actually going to get it… Mike doesn't usually get what he wants in life. At least until Harvey came along and Mike somehow convinced him to hand him his dream on a silver platter. And now he's getting what he wants, _again_. He will have a document to prove it and everything.

It didn't escape him that the contract didn't specify the length of this arrangement, merely stating that either party could terminate it at any given point. There was something about renegotiating in six months, so that might be the end of it, which is fair enough.

“Shit,” Mike mutters, shaking his head when his mind unbiddenly starts conjuring images again. Is Harvey going to be what he imagines? Will he surprise him? Is he going to give him what it takes for him to really let go in a scene? Mike has no idea, but he can't wait to find out.

Friday. A week from now. Seems like a lifetime, but when he thinks about how long he has waited for his fantasies to be fulfilled, he thinks he can wait seven more days.

The weekend turns out to be the hardest, since Mike doesn't have much to do that could take his mind off things. On Monday, real life catches up with him as soon as he steps into the office, one catastrophe or another demanding his attention, leaving him without a second to spare.

The week passes in a blur of work and desperate wanking sessions in the mornings, and before he knows it it's Friday night and Mike finds himself in front of Harvey's door, a trickle of nervousness running down his spine. It's good nervousness, he decides upon a moment of reflection, but it still leaves him a little queasy and hyperaware of his surroundings.

Harvey opens the door, and while the sight of him sparks Mike's arousal further, it also settles something within him.

Harvey steps aside to let him in.

“You can put this in the living room,” he says, nodding at Mike's bag. “Feel free to get some water, then wait for me in the bedroom. I'll be right there.”

He turns around and disappears, and Mike, not having said a single word so far, only blinks before he does as he said. He steps into the bedroom, realizing it's the very first time he's in here when his eyes move over the furniture to drink in every detail.

The design is modern, of course, less focused on comfort and more on creating a stimulating visual. If there weren't the traces of someone sleeping in that bed and using the closet, Mike would feel a bit like stepping into a museum. It's very much in harmony with the rest of the condo, and while it's too impersonal for him to choose it himself, Mike can appreciate good taste when he sees it. He can easily picture Harvey in here, getting up or retiring after a long day, making good use of the bed when he's brought someone home with him...

Mike shakes those thoughts off, instead focusing on the here and now. A tingling satisfaction washes over him at the fact that he is allowed to be in here. He is the one who gets to see all the little details betraying that someone does use this room, who gets to see this side of Harvey now.

Mike licks his lips as he looks around for the best spot, positioning himself at the center. He lets his eyes explore the room further, though the novelty wears off after a few minutes. He shifts his weight, wondering if he's supposed to sit or kneel, if he should take off his shirt or do anything until Harvey comes. But all he told him to do was wait, and while that's vague enough to border on frustrating, he chooses to take it at face value. Harvey isn't going to punish him for not reading his mind, or at least he hopes so. This is their first scene, after all. They need to get to know each other first, see how the other one ticks.

He tries to calm the racing of his mind, but with nothing else to do, he can't help questioning every single thing about his position.

 _Right there_ turns out to be five full minutes – Mike doesn't mean to count, he just can't help it, and he wonders if Harvey really did have something to do or if making him wait was strategic, if this is already part of the scene and they have started without him realizing. The thought gives him a strange sense of excitement. They're about to do this – no, they are already doing it. No turning back now.

He is almost relieved when Harvey finally turns up, because it means he can start listening to what he tells him instead of his mind tying itself into knots.

Harvey doesn't seem to mind his position. He merely closes the door before turning to Mike, eyeing him quietly, and Mike can hear his own breath in the sudden deep silence. They are high enough that the sounds of traffic outside don't reach them, and with the door closed, it feels like they are encapsulated in this bedroom, the outer world shut out and far away.

The seconds bleed into each other as Mike awaits an order from him, a word, anything. But Harvey doesn't talk, just looks, and Mike feels the heat of his gaze drawing him in like a magnet, making his every nerve stand to attention.

“What is your safeword?” Harvey finally asks, and it doesn't serve to break the spell at all, on the contrary. Mike swallows, wanting his voice to be clear when he replies.

“Veritas, Sir.”

“What do I want from you, unconditionally?”

“The truth?”

Harvey nods. “Do you still want to go through with this? Look into my eyes.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“No second thoughts?”

“None.”

Oh no, he's getting surer of this by the second. The prickling in his stomach wouldn't let him leave now if he wanted to.

Harvey scrutinizes him, and Mike swallows, part of him feeling like he should lower his eyes, but Harvey didn't ask him to and he's not sure he could anyway, the weight of his gaze holding him in place.

Harvey comes closer, standing directly in front of him now. Mike’s heart is pounding. He notices how straight his back is, how upright he holds himself. Not that he has ever seen Harvey with bad posture, but this is different from the way he carries himself at the office, different from the cool and composed Harvey the world sees on a daily basis. This is a Harvey radiating a whole other kind of dominance that no one else gets to see, that is just for Mike, and it arouses him more than he cares to admit.

Finally, Harvey speaks. “We went through this during our negotiations, but I'll say it one more time. Don't get used to it, I don't like repeating myself and I don't make a habit of it.”

 _Wouldn't have guessed,_ Mike thinks dryly, but he knows better than to say it out loud.

“Every scene includes discipline for you, regardless of your behavior. However, good behavior will earn you certain privileges over time. Bad behavior earns you points. Every point is an additional strike, unless I decide on another form of punishment. Any questions?”

“No, Sir.”

His breath hitches as he speaks, tasting the words and for the first time really meaning them.

“Good. We're not starting with the worst of it right away, but don't expect me to go easy on you.”

Mike opens his mouth to agree, but Harvey cuts him off with a pointed look. “You don't speak unless I've asked you a question or you need to use your safeword. Clear?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Harvey nods in approval, and Mike sees the same spark that flares up in him reflected in his eyes. They are really doing this.

He's pulled out of his excitement when Harvey's order cuts through to him.

“Strip.”

“Completely?”

The question is out before Mike can help it, and he shuts his mouth with a click, cursing himself when Harvey's eyes narrow.

“What about my instruction was unclear? That makes five points. Strip. I told you, I don't like repeating myself.”

Mike swallows the _yes, Sir_ trying to slip past his lips, knowing it wouldn't be appreciated. Harvey's eyes are fixed on him while he undoes the buttons of his shirt, caught between discomfort and excitement. Mike isn’t exactly self-conscious, but there's something about baring himself in front of Harvey that makes this feel much more significant than it probably is.

They have never seen each other naked. Harvey makes no move to get undressed himself, which Mike didn't expect, but it still leaves him insecure and exposed. Which he suspects is the point.

He tries not to feel awkward while he fiddles with his clothes and almost succeeds. It's terribly quiet in the room, his own breathing the loudest sound over the rustling of his shirt.

Harvey’s expression is unreadable when Mike glances at him. He doesn't know if he's doing this right and it annoys him, it annoys him that he can't even undress himself correctly, that he doesn't know what Harvey expects of him and how wrong-footed it makes him feel. He could make a show out of this, but he doubts that's what Harvey wants, and he knows it would come across as mockery anyway. He doesn't want to earn himself any more points in the first five minutes, thanks.

He slips out of his shirt, hesitating before he decides to fold it provisionally and drops it on the nearest chair.

“Stop thinking so much. It's a simple order. Don't make it into something more complicated than it is.”

 _Stop thinking so much_ is easier said than done, but Harvey told him to, so Mike tries his best to follow. He gets out of his socks and pants quickly, resisting the urge to stall before pulling down his underwear, finally straightening to expose himself for Harvey to see.

Harvey gives no verbal reaction, but his eyes move over the lines of his body slowly, almost delicately. Mike swallows, trying to discern what he is thinking, if he approves or if he's disappointed, but Harvey's poker face has always been outstanding. The path of his gaze is almost physically tangible, and Mike doesn't even try to hide his beginning arousal. And then – then he catches Harvey swallowing, just the slightest shift of his throat, and it’s more than just exhilarating, it’s _validating_.

He doesn't know what is showing on his face when Harvey finally looks up, his eyes lingering long enough to make him squirm before he asks, “How do you feel?”

The automatic _good_ is on the tip of Mike’s tongue before he remembers Harvey's instructions. The truth. He contemplates his answer, too many components playing into it to name them all, before he settles on, “Somewhat exposed, Sir.”

“Is it uncomfortable?”

“No, Sir. It's... exciting.”

Harvey smiles, and Mike nearly does too, fighting to keep his expression neutral. Harvey regards him closely, and then he takes a measured step, bringing him right in front of Mike.

Mike holds his breath involuntarily when he reaches out, not knowing what to expect, but nothing happens. Harvey just touches him.

His hand is warm on his skin, but Mike can't help tensing up, unsure of what is going on.

“Breathe,” Harvey tells him quietly. Mike hasn't even noticed that he wasn't, but he wills his lungs to resume their job as he stands still to let Harvey continue his examination.

It goes on for what could only have been minutes but feels much longer, Harvey's palms caressing him with firm touches, strange and unpredictable, but never straying from the gentle side.

Finally, Harvey steps back, leaving Mike in an acute state of arousal and confusion. He wants to ask what that was all about, but Harvey hasn't given him permission to speak.

“We'll begin with the crop today,” he says instead, and all of Mike's questions evaporate.

God, yes.

He watches breathlessly as Harvey opens his drawer. He wonders what else he has hidden in there, but the thought dissolves at the sight of the riding crop lying loosely in Harvey's hand like a natural extension. Harvey turns around, and Mike just so manages to tear his eyes from the implement.

“Color?”

“Green,” Mike mutters automatically, then hurries to add, “Sir.”

“Get on your knees, arms on the bed. I want you to count each strike.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Mike sinks down, supporting himself like he was told. His palms brush the silky sheets, and he wonders if Harvey chose this position for that exact reason, to give Mike something to hold on to, but the thought gets cut off abruptly. The whispering of Harvey's shirt is all the warning he gets, leaving him barely enough time for a deep breath to steel himself.

The riding crop hits the skin somewhere on his upper back, and Mike lets out a surprised gasp. It's been a while since his last scene, and the momentum of the strike startles him. He forgot the immediate intensity of the sensation, the sharp pain blooming on his skin that slowly sinks in.

He allows himself a moment before he says, “One.”

Harvey doesn't acknowledge that he heard him except through the second strike hitting Mike's back, a little lower and a little harder this time.

“Two.”

Another one, and the air leaves Mike's lungs in a rush.

“Three.”

It quickly becomes clear that he has found a master of his trade in Harvey. No two strikes are the same. He lands each one somewhere else, varies the force behind them just a little, letting them hit home just the way they need to let Mike glide into the right head space. Something stirs in his chest as he strains to cope with the pain, something primal and deeply buried. It's a trickling sense of recognition, of pleasure at the sharpness occupying his whole mind.

God, Mike has missed this. He didn't know how much he missed it until he was kneeling on Harvey's bedroom floor, his skin being set ablaze with every strike and something cheering inside him, demanding _more, again, harder._

It's delicious, savoring the sting. It hurts, but there is pleasure hidden in the pain somewhere, pleasure Mike can pull from it, and he remembers now, taking one strike after the other, just how amazing that feels. It's a perverted sort of joy, drawn from his own suffering, a high produced entirely by his own body, but Mike is not ashamed of it. Not in here, not with someone who understands that he feels that way and thrives on it, too.

“Seven,” Mike utters as the crop strikes him again, cherishing the heat blooming on his back. He is not there yet, where he craves to be, but the stinging of his flesh is all the promise he needs that Harvey is going to take him there in time.

“Eight.”

He is just beginning to slip into a rhythm when Harvey changes up his pace, barely waiting for Mike to speak before he strikes him again. This time the riding crop lands far lower than before, leaving a searing pain on his butt.

Caught off guard, Mike gasps, flinching away from the crop. He thought this position would prevent Harvey from striking his ass, but it’s becoming clear that he should never assume Harvey will go for the obvious choice. _Lesson learned,_ Mike thinks, breathing through the sharp sting until it gradually transforms into the heat he can bear more easily.

“Nine,” he gets out, taking a deep breath. Harvey doesn't react to the strain of his voice, but Mike can sense him smiling. Something tugs at the corner of his own lips, something that immediately evaporates when the crop meets his skin again, hitting a patch that must already be red and tender, but the feeling of it, the lightness around his heart, stays.

“Ten,” he says, shifting on his knees. The floor is hard and Harvey didn’t allow him to use a pillow, so now he is trying to compensate for discomfort from two sources. Maybe that's something Mike can ask for as a reward, if he's good. He has a feeling he is going to spend a lot of time on his knees from now on.

 _If_ he's good. He's getting ahead of himself. First, he must earn it.

He thinks he is holding up just fine though, considering that it’s been a while and they are only just getting into this. He wriggles around a little towards the end, can't help himself, but Harvey doesn't scold him for it.

“Fifteen.”

Mike exhales deeply, reveling in the burn of the final strike.

“There we go. How was that?”

“Perfectly acceptable, Sir.”

“Then turn around.”

Mike scrambles up from his position. There is something inherently thrilling about being on your knees in front of someone, something most people probably despise but Mike almost craves. It feels different now that he can see Harvey. His gaze is fixed on the shiny tips of his shoes, immaculately clean. Mike would recognize them as Harvey's anywhere.

“Put your hands behind your back for me.”

He does, holding on to his own wrist as he awaits further instructions. They don't come. Harvey just watches him, and Mike listens to the silence, trying to make out Harvey's breathing in hopes of getting something from it.

His own breath catches when he eventually touches his cheek. The brush is agonizingly gentle, in stark contrast to the burning on his back. His eyes fall shut on their own account, and he fights to open them again when Harvey's voice sounds through to him.

“Look at you. You're beautiful like this. It's like you were made to kneel for me.”

Mike blinks at him through his lashes, swallowing thickly. It's a good thing Harvey didn't give him permission to speak, because he's not sure he could articulate himself right now without making a fool of himself.

Something flickers across Harvey's face, the hint of a smile. Then he reaches around his head, cupping the back of his neck. Mike freezes at the touch, perfectly gentle, yet holding a power over him that makes his breath catch in his throat.

Harvey seems to enjoy it too, taking his time with fondling the skin of his nape. Mike inhales sharply when his fingers slide into his hair, ghosting over his skull before he pulls, yanking his head back.

“So beautiful,” he murmurs, and Mike blinks against the light coming from the ceiling, trying to find his gaze. Harvey is looking at him with approval and a deep desire, almost like hunger. Mike feels himself flushing.

“What a good boy you are,” Harvey murmurs, and Mike's attention shifts to the silky quality of his voice, luring him in like a siren. “I want to try a few things on you now, see how much you can take. If you need a break, use the color system to let me know. If you need me to stop, use your safeword.”

“Understood, Sir.”

Harvey smiles, easing his grip on him. He runs his fingers through his hair.

“Resume your former position.”

Mike turns back around, resisting the urge to peek over his shoulder to see what Harvey is doing. He hears him opening the drawer again and walking around the room, assembling a selection of implements on the bed that has Mike’s mouth going dry.

“I'll start with the paddle and work my way through all of these. You will get six strikes with each implement, followed by a short break. I want you to tell me how each round feels to you. You know the rules.”

“The truth, Sir,” Mike agrees.

“I knew you'd learn fast.”

Harvey trails his fingers over the paddle, picking it up. “Count for me.”

“One,” Mike begins dutifully, closing his eyes as the dull thudding sensation spreads on his back. It's different from the riding crop, less focused and sharp. He can easily take six strikes, and he tells Harvey as much afterwards. He doesn’t react, except for the way he lets the edge of the paddle glide over Mike's balls. Mike inhales sharply, his cock standing to attention, but the teasing touch is all he gets. Harvey steps back.

“The cane now,” he tells him like nothing happened.

Mike takes a deep breath and braces himself.

While he counts to six over and over, it dawns on him that Harvey has mastered the art of eroticizing pain. He swaps the cane for a flogger, which hurts even worse, and then the flogger for a single tail and finally a slapper, and even though some of them border on torturously painful, he uses none of them on Mike without giving him something for his pain.

The flogger brushes the inside of Mike's thighs. The single tail is accompanied by a steadying hand on his hip, maddeningly close to his crotch without ever actually touching. There are dozens of “accidental” touches, without warning or follow-up, no matter how much Mike tries to push back into them.

He gradually realizes that this is all he’s going to get today. Disappointment pools in his stomach, but he wills himself to remember that he is here to follow Harvey's will, and if he decides that nothing else is going to happen, then that's how it’s going to be.

When Harvey finally eases off, he is left with the heat spreading on his back and a yearning desire coiling somewhere deep in his stomach. He is aroused, desperately so, but he knows he is not going to come. His cock weeps at the idea, undecided whether it should rise or not, but in his mind, Mike has made peace with it. It feels surprisingly good, to give up control and put it in someone else's hands. Better than he remembers. To be freed from making any decisions, having the security of knowing that Harvey is going to make them for him.

“Face me.”

Mike obediently turns around, releasing a slow breath as the movements stretch his tender skin. He burns all over, growing worse with every breath he draws, but it's a good kind of pain, the kind that can turn into pleasure if you only look at it right.

Mike has a feeling Harvey knows precisely how to make him look.

“You've done very well, so you get to choose the implement we finish with today.”

Mike blinks at the selection spread out on the bed. He is aching all over, and the idea of any of them coming into contact with his throbbing skin is less than pleasant, but he knows that this is a privilege he shouldn't take lightly. Harvey could have gone for the flogger, after all.

It's an easy choice, in the end. “I'd like the riding crop again, sir.”

Harvey doesn't comment on his choice, though Mike half expected a derisive remark about it. He is starting to realize that this is not Harvey's way, though. He wasn't lying when he said that he doesn't thrive on humiliation.

Harvey runs a hand through Mike's hair. He’s surprised by how good it feels. “You've taken everything I've given you beautifully. I know you can take ten more for me.”

Mike swallows, his entire body seeming to straighten at the praise. “I can, Sir,” he agrees eagerly. He knows he is going to have bruises to show for it tomorrow, but he doesn’t care. He _wants_ something to remember this by, if only for a few days.

“Lovely,” Harvey murmurs. He runs a hand along Mike's face, cupping his chin briefly. “Turn back around.”

Mike returns to his position, his back tensing in apprehension. He aches already, and the upcoming strikes will be a challenge, but he can do it. Harvey wants him to, so he will.

 _Just take it one at a time,_ he tells himself, sucking in a sharp breath when the crop cuts through the air. _One at a time._

He counts to ten, swaying on his knees with every strike. His hands grasp the sheets tightly, the silky fabric sliding through his fingers as he holds on. The pain mounts, the dull sensation spreading in his flesh, taking him towards the edge of something deep and alluring.

It's over before he reaches it, but he knows he will get there eventually.

“There we go. Turn back around.”

Mike does, his movements stiff and slowed down, but Harvey doesn't complain.

“Now thank me for your discipline.”

Mike glances from the riding crop Harvey is holding out to him to his face. He doesn't say more, but he doesn't need to for Mike to understand. He leans in to kiss the crop, cherishing the tingle it sends through him.

“Thank you for my discipline, Sir.”

“Thank you, too.”

Mike keeps his eyes on the ground while Harvey disposes of the implement. When he returns, he lowers himself before him, holding out a hand to help him up. Mike takes it gratefully, staggering to his feet with a lot less grace than he planned. The long kneeling cut off the circulation in his legs, and the physical extortion has taken its toll on him. He's caught between the high of the endorphins still rushing through his system and the exhaustion following it.

Harvey inspects his face, then looks him over, even turning him around to check his back. “How are you feeling?”

Mike can tell by his tone that the scene is over, that Harvey is back to being Harvey instead of his dom. He exhales slowly, letting the warmth in his voice wash over him.

“I'm okay. More than that, actually. That was... really good.”

“I thought so too.” Harvey’s lips curve up. “And we're only just getting started.”

“I know.” Mike smiles too. “My body would disagree at this point, but I really can't wait for the rest of it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm fairly certain there's another fic where Mike's safeword is Veritas, but since truth is a recurring theme in this story and it's also the Harvard motto, I decided to use it as well :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads-up: I want to make it clear that I'm not claiming in any way that Harvey and Mike are a perfect example of a functional dom/sub relationship. There will be instances in which mistakes are made. There will be instances in which the communication between them doesn’t work the way it should. They are largely going to be resolved later on, but some aspects I describe still remain questionable. How they navigate these challenges and work their way through them is the point of this story. 
> 
> Harvey testing Mike’s limits doesn’t mean he isn’t careful with him. He would never willingly hurt him in a way that doesn't take him somewhere Mike enjoys or isn't part of a consensual scene. Mike submitting to Harvey doesn’t mean he gives up all autonomy or that their relationship outside the scenes changes. Like Harvey said, he doesn’t want a puppet, and he isn’t getting one with Mike. That he still has his own mind and makes his own choices or talks back is something I try to make clear in future scenes.
> 
> I'm no expert on the subject of BDSM, but if you have any questions, just hit me up :)

The curve of Mike's neck, beautifully exposed by his submissive posture, keeps catching his attention.

Harvey never noticed how enticing it is, the taut tendon of it, the skin stretching over his Adam's apple, barely visible from where he is standing. He's going to taste it one day, Harvey vows to himself. One day soon, but not yet. Not yet.

It's quiet in the room, so quiet, and Harvey takes a moment to cherish the silence. It seems to amplify the view in front of him, the thrill of Mike kneeling at his feet, his bare skin and bowed head exciting him to no end. Like before, Harvey's touches at the beginning left Mike half hard. He responds to them so beautifully, and Harvey could have continued for hours, but there’s more he wants to do than just touch.

He slowly rounds him, never taking his eyes from the sight. Looking down at Mike, his stomach tingles with the possibilities of what he could do to him, _with_ him. Mike is not his first sub by far, but he is the first one to push all of Harvey's buttons with only a single look. Because there is so much in it, so much he can't begin to name but knows he could never find in someone he just picked up at the club.

“Look at me,” he instructs. Mike raises his gaze, and Harvey almost smiles. There it is again. Mike’s eyes are full of longing, of hope for praise, and Harvey realizes he could get addicted to this very thoroughly very fast.

This is the third time he has Mike on his knees. They have barely started, and already he looks at him with so much trust, already there is this common ground that just always existed between them.

He doesn't think Mike is even aware how much he is revealing of himself, that he is wearing his heart on his sleeve, plain as day for Harvey to see. But that's always been what stood out about him, the depth of whatever he’s feeling, the raw emotion that renders him incapable of separating himself from it. Whenever he does something, Mike does it genuinely, feeling it in every part of himself.

It's what makes him so goddamn irresistible. It's what makes him _perfect_ for this.

“Did you have some water before our scene?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. We're adding something new tonight. I don't assume you have any objections, since you didn't list it as a limit, but if you do, voice them now.” The corner of his mouth lifts. “You won't be able to later.”

He feels Mike's eyes on him as he turns to the drawer, widening in understanding when he returns with the ball gag.

“None? Good. I’m going to put this on you now.”

Mike's gaze snaps to the ball when he steps closer, his pupils dilated. Clearly, Harvey made the right call.

Oh, he has been looking forward to this. He wanted to establish a level of familiarity before introducing the gag, but looking at Mike now, he can tell that he is more than ready for it.

“I'll be keeping things pretty straightforward. If I ask you a question, you nod or shake your head. If you need to use your safeword, you tap whatever part of me you can reach. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes, sir,” Mike repeats.

“Open your mouth,” Harvey orders, and Mike obeys immediately, holding his gaze as Harvey puts the ball between his lips and fastens the clasp.

He steps back, admiring the picture before him. “Alright?”

Mike nods.

“Good boy.”

Mike visibly straightens at the praise. Harvey licks his lips, soaking up the rush it sends through him. He loves getting to do this to Mike, but Mike loves it at least as much.

It's incredible, how much he thrives on this. Harvey suspected that his submissive streak ran deeper than his eagerness to please at work suggested, but he couldn't have hoped for _this_. Mike is so eager, unashamed of his needs and determined to do what it takes to satisfy them. He is not a puppet, like he promised. Just because he gives up control to Harvey doesn't mean that he makes it easy for him, which would be bound to get boring at one point. No, he is proving to be perfect for Harvey in so many ways, _especially_ in his imperfection, the challenge he poses, the ways he forces him to exercise what he thought he knew, keeping him on his toes at all times.

“How odd, not having you talk back for once.” Harvey tilts his head, smiling when he sees Mike trying his hardest not to give him a look. He doesn't entirely succeed.

He brushes Mike's cheek, then grabs his chin and lifts it. “You may not be able to speak, but you can still make sounds.”

Mike hums in agreement.

“I _don't_ want you to do that. I want you to stay as quiet as you can. Do you understand?”

Mike frowns, but nods.

“Do you think you can do that?”

He hesitates, then nods again, albeit less decided this time.

“I want you to try for me. Make me proud.”

Mike swallows, nodding once more. Harvey lets his fingertips brush his neck.

“Get on the bed. On your stomach.”

Mike scrambles up to follow his instructions. He cranes his head when Harvey doesn't immediately follow, trying to catch a glimpse of him over his shoulder.

“Eyes front,” Harvey says. Mike exhales deeply, but obeys. Harvey smirks.

He heads for the drawer, conscious of Mike listening to every sound he makes as he goes over his selection.

Part of him is tempted to go for the single tail or the flogger – Mike's tolerance for the intense stinging sensation they provide is lower than the wider implements Harvey has used on him. He ultimately decides against it, opting for the slapper instead. While he knows that Mike _can_ take it, he’s an advocate of low and slow, and throwing him in at the deep end right away decidedly goes against that. Besides, the task he gave him is supposed to be a challenge, but one he can master. He wants Mike to succeed, to work for it and then feel the rush of his accomplishment.

Mike's breathing stays even as Harvey shuts the drawer and approaches him, but he can tell that his attention is on him. Harvey runs the leather strips along Mike's leg, smiling when the muscles of his thigh shift. It's all the hint he is going to get.

“You’ll get fifteen strikes. Since you can't count out loud, I want you to do it in your head. If I get the feeling that your mind is wandering, I will start over.”

Mike nods.

Without further warning, Harvey lifts his hand and brings the slapper down on his ass. Mike's breath escapes him in a choked rush, but he keeps still otherwise, and Harvey gives him a second to process before he continues.

Fifteen strikes can be over in a minute or last for hours, but Harvey is going for neither of those options. He is following his gut, bringing the slapper down whenever his instinct tells him to, varying his pace and momentum as he covers Mike's backside in a fascinating shade of red. Mike absorbs the impact beautifully, bowing to the pain without giving in to it. If only he could see himself like this, feel the same rush Harvey gets from having him spread out before him. It's such a pretty sight, the way he writhes on the bed, how his fingers flex and tighten around the sheets as he struggles to compensate for the pain with anything other than sound.

Harvey counts to fifteen quietly, then listens to the silence following the final slap. His own breathing is elevated, but nowhere near as much as Mike's. He doesn't let any other sound slip out, though, and Harvey drags the leather strips down his back in silent appreciation before he lingers at his ass for just a beat.

“Get up. On your knees.”

He puts the slapper away while Mike rolls over, his movements slightly uncoordinated. When he’s kneeling at his feet, gazing at him through shining eyes, Harvey takes a second to stop and admire the sight. He vows to use the ball gag again very soon, and next time he will make sure to get a good view of it. It suits Mike perfectly, like he was made to wear it.

“You've done very well.”

Mike blinks up at him. Harvey runs a hand through his hair, then tilts his head up, brushing the slick ball with his thumb.

“I'm going to remove this now.” The corner of his lips lifts. “Don't think you'll get to talk, though. That pretty mouth of yours will be... occupied otherwise.”

Mike's eyes are glued to his as he takes off the gag, but he doesn't talk, even though he clearly itches to. Harvey wipes the residual saliva from his chin.

“Give me a color.”

“Green, sir.”

Harvey nods. Putting the gag away, he says, “What we're doing next might seem like it’s only for my benefit, and if I wanted to, I could very well make you do whatever I feel like, but this will actually be for both of us.” He watches Mike's face closely as he tells him, “You're going to please me now.”

Mike stares up at him, his eyes growing dark and hungry. He looks like he wants to speak, but just so remembers not to. Harvey watches him biting his lip in amusement.

“This is going to be the second part of our session. You get to make me come today, which I hope you understand is a privilege.”

Mike nods avidly. “Yes, sir.”

“You can take however long you like, but I want you to keep your task in mind. Drawing it out to make it good for me is fine. Teasing me is not, and getting cheeky with me _will_ have consequences. If I get the feeling that you're losing sight of what I ordered you to do, you will be punished.”

He lets Mike take that in, then adds, “Because you've been trying so hard for me earlier, you get to bring yourself off as well. However-” He makes a meaningful pause- “you are not allowed to use your hands on either of us.”

Mike swallows, then gives a jerky nod. He glances at Harvey, who merely raises his eyebrows expectantly. Mike licks his lips, his gaze settling on Harvey's crotch. He shuffles closer on his knees, his hands already on their way to undo the button before it hits him. His eyes flicker to his face, but when Harvey only returns the look, he exhales deeply and drops his hands.

Harvey watches as he ponders the best way to go about this. He could try to get him off through friction alone, rubbing his cheek against his beginning erection until he comes in his pants, but that would take ages, if it worked at all. Another glance at Harvey’s face, then he finally straightens his shoulders and leans in.

Harvey stays still while Mike begins experimenting. He did have a little mercy on him by foregoing a belt, deeming his pants to be enough of a challenge. For now.

Mike feels around the button with his lips, hesitantly pushing at it with his tongue as he tries to work out the mechanics. He makes a face at the metallic taste, but keeps going, apparently having decided on trial and error.

He fails twice in attempting to move the button with his teeth. Harvey can see his hands twitching in frustration, but he dutifully keeps them on his thighs, away from his own crotch.

When it becomes clear that his strategy isn’t working, he sits back and narrows his eyes. He licks his lips, then leans in again, catching the fabric above the button between his teeth. A triumphant look crosses his face when it gives way, allowing him to push the button back with his tongue, and with a little more fumbling, he finally succeeds in undoing it.

He worked it out faster than Harvey expected, but he should have known that Mike’s determination was going to drive him to succeed quickly. The _good boy_ is on the tip of Harvey’s tongue, but he merely reaches out and runs his fingers through his hair, giving it the slightest pull. Mike holds his eyes as he catches the zip between his teeth, slowly dragging it down. He allows himself a satisfied smile, then leans in again and drags Harvey’s pants down further to get better access to his underwear.

Instead of removing it right away, he opens his mouth and drags his flat tongue over the thin cotton. Harvey hums lowly, and Mike takes the approval as encouragement to keep licking the fabric until it’s soaked and clings to Harvey’s cock.

Harvey is long past the stage of beginning arousal now, and the sight seems to do it for Mike as well, as he stops the foreplay and gets down to business. He catches the waistband between his teeth, pulling back until Harvey’s cock springs free. He hovers near it, his eyes fixed on the tip before he leans in and closes his lips around it.

Harvey hums in the back of his throat, a sound Mike duplicates before he starts bobbing his head. His movements are small and jerky, Harvey’s underwear is still in the way, but it’s enough for a low heat to build in his stomach. Harvey would close his eyes if the sight of him wasn’t so goddamn hot.

Mike doesn’t seem to be faring much better. His breathing grows heavier as he moves around him, clearly working himself into a state of arousal as well. His leg twitches as he groans, and he shifts, canting his hips in an attempt to get any kind of friction, but it’s impossible to rub against Harvey’s leg and suck him off at the same time.

He draws back with a huff, wiping his chin on his shoulder. Harvey takes in the frustrated look in his eyes, the frown creasing his forehead, and when he glances up hesitantly, he says, “You can speak.”

“Sir, may I- could you sit down, maybe? Please, I don't know if I can like this-”

Harvey raises a hand, satisfaction rising in him when Mike shuts his mouth at once. He thinks about refusing him his wish – it’s a privilege that he’s allowed to get himself off, after all, and there is no reason Harvey should make this easier for him – but then another thought crosses his mind.

Harvey approaches the bed, then turns back to Mike and buttons his pants again. He sits down, the corner of his mouth lifting at Mike’s incredulous expression.

“Continue.”

Mike lets out a frustrated breath but follows, staying on his knees without having to be told.

 _God, he_ is _perfect for this._

This time he works the button open faster, but struggles with pulling the fabric down far enough to reach Harvey’s underwear.

By the time he has gotten the cotton out of the way, they are both achingly hard. Mike is openly panting, wasting no time before he closes his lips around Harvey’s cock again.

“That’s it, yeah,” Harvey mutters. “Just like that.”

Mike moans around him, drawing back before he lowers his head all the way, taking Harvey in as deep as he can. The wet heat of his mouth is heavenly, improved only by his tongue skillfully teasing him into a state of mindless arousal. The mix of sloppiness and finesse is intoxicating. Clearly, Mike is no stranger to this.

It’s quiet in the room, but the slick sounds of Mike’s mouth are gradually drowned out by their elevated breathing and the rustling of Harvey’s pants where Mike ruts against them. Harvey can feel the wet spot he’s leaving. He must be getting close, and the thought of him getting himself off this way is hot enough to tip him over the edge.

Harvey doesn’t fight the short, sweet shocks of pleasure when they start washing through him, patting Mike’s shoulder in warning, but he just grunts and swallows around him, clearly determined to see this through.

Harvey groans, digging his fingers into his flesh as he lets go and spends himself. Mike coughs a little but doesn’t back off, catching most of his release in his mouth. Harvey wipes the rest of it from his lips and chin once he’s pulled back, and Mike leans in and licks his finger clean without having to be prompted. He doesn’t look like he cares for the taste, but there’s a heat in his gaze betraying that he didn’t exactly have to force himself to swallow.

It might just be the hottest thing Harvey has ever seen.

Mike shifts on the ground, canting his hips to rub against Harvey again before he freezes, glancing up at him. He looks delectable like this, his hair disheveled, cheeks flushed and his lips slick. He leaks desperation, and Harvey feels drunk on the fact that he is the sole reason for that look.

“It’s alright,” he tells him. “You’re allowed to finish.”

Mike sighs in relief, not needing to be told twice. He is clearly past the stage of being embarrassed by humping Harvey’s leg, instead just chasing the sensation he needs to let go.

It doesn’t take long. Harvey doesn’t know if it was sucking him off or the position he’s in that did it for him, but he only needs a few more seconds of friction before he stills and, pressed against Harvey’s leg, spends himself. Harvey can feel the warmth of the mess he’s making spreading.

“There we go,” he murmurs when his shoulders sag, caressing his hair. “How was that?”

Mike exhales deeply, taking a moment to find his voice again. “Amazing, sir.”

“Good. I enjoyed it too. You pleased me so well.”

Mike smiles as he leans his forehead against Harvey’s knee. Harvey allows himself a moment to just look at him, all soft and spent and warm against him, before he squeezes his shoulder. Mike reluctantly straightens to let him get up.

Harvey retrieves the slapper to hold it out to Mike. He promptly kisses the leather, then says, “Thank you, sir.”

“What for?”

“For my discipline.”

“And?”

“For getting to please you, and for the permission to come, sir.”

“You're welcome. Thank you, too.”

He helps Mike to his feet, who leans on him gratefully. Harvey loves seeing him like this, a little sluggish and worn out, but full of trust and satisfaction. All because of him. Slipping into the nurturing mindset he needs for aftercare has never been an issue for Harvey, but Mike makes it so easy.

“How are you feeling?”

Mike smiles mellowly. “Great.”

Harvey squeezes his hand. “Me too. Come on, let’s get you wrapped up. We don’t want you getting cold, after all.”

*

As satisfying as their first few scenes were, Mike knows that they aren’t going to stay in shallow water for long. Harvey is slowly learning Mike's body, as dutiful in his explorations as he is when he’s working a case. No part of him remains untouched. Mike didn’t expect him to be cursory in his role as a dom – Harvey is never cursory in anything he does – but it’s something entirely different to experience the intense determination of his focus firsthand as he works out just what it takes for Mike to squirm. He learns what he needs, what gets him off, where he has to press to make it hurt in the very best way.

Mike, in return, learns Harvey's preferences, where they overlap with his and how they work it out if they don't. Harvey strikes him until his flesh burns and then makes him take more, always going one step farther when he thinks that he can’t. He keeps him on the edge of orgasm until Mike is ready to beg, sometimes letting him finish, sometimes not.

Not much time has passed since they started this arrangement, but Mike can already tell that Harvey is just what he was looking for. He is perfectly equipped to sate all of Mike’s needs, to bring him to his limits only to show him that he _can_ handle more.

Surprisingly enough – or maybe it’s not all that surprising, Mike muses – nothing much changes between them.

Despite the added layer to their relationship, they are still Mike and Harvey. Harvey doesn’t think ordering Mike around once a week gives him the right to intercede in other areas of his life, work excluded. Mike doesn’t start throwing himself at his feet whenever he sees him (well, not more than usual anyway). They are still friends, still equals, still hang out when they have nothing else on like they always used to.

Even at the office things are normal.

Well, mostly. Except now Mike knows. Everything is the same, only it can never quite be the same again. Because they treat each other as usual, go about their tasks as usual, fight and make up and work things out as usual, but sometimes Mike catches something in Harvey's eyes and it feels like his nerve endings are on fire instantly.

Because it’s the same look he gets when they are in the bedroom, when Mike is on his knees and Harvey towers above him, emitting power and authority and care for Mike in a way he never dared to dream of.

It’s the same look he gets when he checks in on Mike, which he always does, several times. While Mike’s previous doms always made sure he was fine, they never went to such lengths to ensure his wellbeing. Neither did he expect them to. Harvey, in the meantime, seems positively indignant when Mike voices his surprise about him checking in again _._

“What do you mean, _again_? Are you trying to tell me that you thought I didn’t care if you’re alright?”

“Well, you did send that text on Saturday…”

“Which was two days ago,” Harvey states, his face clearly saying, _your point?_ “What, you think I ask if you’re fine once and with that my responsibility is fulfilled? What kind of dom do you take me for?”

“One who doesn’t get mad at me for being surprised by the level of care he shows,” Mike jokes weakly, but quickly sobers at the look Harvey gives him. “Alright, alright, calm down. I’m perfectly fine, okay? No signs of sub drop, no complaints, nothing. You can stop worrying.”

Harvey’s eyes are still narrowed. “Don’t question me like that again,” he finally says. “Jesus, Mike, you’re gonna give me a headache one of these days. I know it’s due to your lack of experience rather than doubts about my abilities, but I don’t appreciate it nevertheless.”

“Won’t happen again,” Mike assures him, mouthing _sir_ when Harvey has stopped looking at him.

The way Harvey cares remains the most surprising part of their arrangement for Mike. Because it’s blatantly obvious that he does, in the way he treats him during aftercare, how he touches him before every scene, the way he orders him around, always authoritative but never cruelly.

Mike never thought he’d see Mr. _I only care about you as a reflection of me_ care so obviously without being hard-pressed to admit it.

He knows it’s not specifically about him, of course. It’s about Harvey as a person, as a dom and someone who doesn’t commit halfway to anything, but it’s fascinating nevertheless.

“Can I ask you something?” Mike says one day, watching Harvey wrap him up in the blanket he has come to think of as his after their scene. He is burning all over, but the soft fabric feels soothing rather than obtrusive, and he draws comfort from the touch as he pulls it tighter around him. He’s not cold yet, but he knows that he will be in a few minutes.

“Of course.”

“That thing you do, before my discipline. Where you touch me. What's that all about?”

Harvey glances up, an amused smile playing on his lips.

“I’ve been doing that since day one and you're only asking now?”

Mike lifts his shoulder in a defensive shrug. “I kind of usually have other stuff on my mind, okay?”

Harvey chuckles. “Yeah, that’s kind of the point,” he teases. “I like to connect with my sub before I start a scene,” he then explains. “There are different ways of doing that, keeping eye contact or breathing together, for example, but I found that for me touching works best. It makes me feel attuned to the sub, puts me in the right mindset to be in sync with them.”

“Huh.”

“You’ve never seen that before? It’s not something everyone does, granted, but it’s how I was introduced to taking on a scene. It doesn’t feel right if I don’t do it, like I can’t give my sub what they need.”

He meets Mike’s gaze, raising an eyebrow. “What?”

“Nothing,” Mike says, accepting the water Harvey hands him with a smile.

He hasn’t gotten lucky often in his life, but for whatever reason or skittish quirk of fate, he really hit the jackpot this time.

*

“It’s a month today.”

Mike keeps his mouth shout, his eyes fixed on the whip in Harvey’s hands. He keeps tapping his palm with it as he considers him. It must sting, the little point of contact where the tail meets his skin again and again.

He doesn’t even flinch.

“A month since we started this. Do you have any regrets?”

“No, sir,” Mike answers honestly.

“Neither do I. Do you think we should be doing something to celebrate?”

Mike listens up. He peeks at Harvey, but his face gives nothing away. “If you feel like it, sir,” he replies carefully. The corner of Harvey’s mouth lifts, a miniscule sign of his approval.

“I do,” he agrees. “I feel like allowing you to make me come today, and if you can manage, you may get yourself off too.”

Mike nods, knowing there will be some catch like the ball gag or not being allowed to use his hands again, but he doesn’t care. Harvey hasn’t posed any challenges he couldn’t master so far, with or without some difficulty, and Mike needs to be challenged right now. He is full of vim today, brimming with zest for action, and the prospect of getting some release one way or another brightens his mood immediately.

Harvey smiles at him. “But first,” he says, “we have your discipline coming up. Get on the bed, on your stomach.”

Mike gets into position, not even bothering to try and see which implement he is choosing. Harvey is going through his drawer somewhere behind him, as usual giving nothing away with the sounds he makes. It doesn’t stop Mike from listening, though. He has almost developed a sensitivity to him by now, can tell where he is or what he’s doing, what his mood is like, what he’s about to do. He can tell Harvey has made his choice before he hears his steps approaching, recognizes the brief silence before his discipline starts.

He hisses when the first strike lands, quickly identifying the chosen implement as the paddle.

Mike is almost disappointed it’s not the single tail, or the flogger he usually despises. Not that it doesn’t hurt – it does, Harvey knows what he’s about – it’s just that the dull thudding sensation of it is not what Mike craves today.

“One,” he starts counting automatically.

The throbbing sensation spreads from his back to his ass as Harvey varies his strikes, leaving his backside in a consistent shade of red. Mike likes to imagine what he looks like, what Harvey sees when he looks at him and paints him like his very own canvas.

He has always enjoyed getting some visual souvenir to remember the scene by, having proof that he belonged to someone else for a little while, something to show for his pain and the pleasure coming along with it. He imagines it’s much the same for Harvey, that it must be even more intoxicating from his perspective – to mark someone as his, leave his fingerprints on another living being.

Mike finds himself craving that very feeling, trying to find it in the dull ache and coming up empty-handed. Knowing that they are only just getting started, that Harvey knows what’s right for him and will lead him there in time, he ignores the sliver of impatience trickling down his spine. He will get there. He tells himself again and again with every stroke, trying his hardest to get into it.

By the time the final strike lands, he hasn’t quite succeeded, but he is soon distracted from the slight disappointment by Harvey’s voice cutting through the pulsating ache.

“You took that very well,” he says. “I think you have earned yourself the privilege of what I have planned for you. You are not going to please me right away. I’m going to take as much time with you as I want, and you will take it staying as still as possible.”

Mike’s muscles already twitch in protest, but he keeps his mouth shut. Harvey touches the paddle between his shoulder blades, dragging it down his spine. Mike suppresses the hiss rising in him, understanding that his task has already started.

“Turn around,” Harvey orders. “I want you to look at me while I touch you.”

 _Yes,_ Mike thinks. _Yes, yes, yes_. _Finally_.

God, he needs this. He rolls over, expecting Harvey to put the paddle away, but he doesn’t move from the spot, just gazes at him.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, a smile on his lips as he traces the line of Mike’s jaw with the paddle. “You’re desperate already, aren’t you?”

Mike swallows, blinking at the implement hovering near his face. He knows Harvey isn’t going to slap him without warning, but the mere thought stirs his blood.

“I asked you a question,” Harvey says. “Do you want this?”

“Yes, sir.” Mike is surprised by the rough, breathless quality of his voice. “Please.”

“How much do you want it?”

“I’m desperate for it, sir,” he admits, because he knows Harvey wants to hear it and his cock is betraying his state anyway. “Please touch me.”

“You’re so pretty when you beg,” Harvey muses idly, dragging the paddle over Mike’s pulse. “Ask me again.”

“Please, sir. Please touch me.”

The words fall from his lips easily, even more so when Harvey does what he’s asking for.

Mike gasps at the first touch to his skin, struggling to remind himself that he’s supposed to stay still. Harvey’s hand barely rests on his belly, staying clear of his groin entirely, but the promise of his position alone sends a tingle down Mike’s spine, followed by that damn impatience he is trying so hard to keep at bay.

Harvey brushes Mike’s abs, passing over his bellybutton. Mike bites his lip to keep the curses inside when he reaches the line where his hips meet his thigh, achingly close to where Mike _needs_ him.

He remains there only for a beat. The paddle moving across his chest distracts Mike marginally, though not enough to keep him from noticing that Harvey is slinking away from his cock to trail down his limbs instead. It’s enough to make him want to yell in frustration, but he holds it together. Barely.

Harvey, it seems, is in no rush at all to get to where Mike so desperately wants him. He takes his sweet time exploring every inch of his skin that isn’t connected to his genitals. His cock is fully erect now, but it might as well be invisible to him. By the time he nears his groin again, Mike is breathing heavily, his fingers digging into the sheets.

Finally, Harvey touches his cock. Mike sighs in relief, the sound turning into a groan when Harvey merely brushes the shaft before moving on again. His hands still at the sound, and Mike remembers himself and musters the effort it takes to stay quiet. Harvey resumes his touches once he’s content, and Mike does his best to keep still the next time his hands touch his cock.

It’s impossible. Harvey idly strokes him, giving him a short tug before he wanders off again, brushing the juncture of his thigh like he doesn’t have a care in the world. He repeats that a couple of times, expertly working him into a state of almost painful arousal without actually doing anything about it.

Mike wants to scream in frustration.

It’s good, what Harvey is doing to him. It’s more than good, but it’s nowhere near enough. The impatience is now pooling in his belly, impossible to ignore any longer. He feels like crying. Harvey’s touch is heavenly, stimulating him in all the right places, but Mike wants _more_. His hand moves between his legs on its own account, and he groans when he grips his cock, finally giving himself the touch he’s craving.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Harvey’s voice is low and even, but there is a hint of danger that makes Mike dart back like he’s been burned.

“I’m sorry, sir,” he mutters, his mind only half on the words as he chases the relief the touch provided.

Harvey narrows his eyes, not moving for what feels like an eternity.

“That makes five points. Do not touch yourself again. I asked you to keep still, and I told you that I don’t like repeating myself.”

Mike nods, hoping to speed up the lecture and get to the good parts again. Harvey makes him wait another beat before he touches him again, going back to his upper body. Mike tries not to groan, tries to appreciate the touch to his chest, but it doesn’t help, only makes him want to fidget more.

He knows it’s useless, that Harvey is never going to let him go through with this and he’ll pay for not listening, but he raises his hand anyway, wrapping his fingers around himself in a desperate attempt to get some friction before Harvey punishes him.

The warmth of his touch is gone immediately, and Mike feels irrationally bereft, dropping his hand clumsily at the sound of Harvey’s icy voice.

“Ten points. This is your last warning. If you think you can disobey me, think again. Ignore my orders one more time and there will be consequences.”

“Understood, sir,” Mike says, quietly urging him to go on and touch him again.

He does, but it takes even longer this time, and his hands are far from where Mike wants them. _You only have yourself to blame for this_ , he thinks to himself, but it does nothing except prodding his need further. He doesn’t know what makes him move again despite Harvey’s clear orders, but he knows the second he does it that he messed up.

Harvey’s hands are gone before he knows it, but Mike only gets to feel their absence for a heartbeat.

“If you want to have it this way, that’s fine by me.”

Harvey turns away, putting the paddle aside. Clearly, they are done playing.

 _So this is it_ , Mike thinks. His first big punishment. He’s earned himself some before, of course, but nothing of this scale. Part of him is slightly worried, unsettled by the look on Harvey’s face he has never seen there before. The rest of him, morbidly, is _excited._

Harvey turns back to him in silence. Mike doesn’t know what he will do now – Harvey never explicitly told him what his punishments would entail – but he expects to receive a few strikes for his disobedience, perhaps to be yelled at or tied up.

Harvey does none of these things.

Instead, he looks at Mike unmovingly before he says, “You’re going to wait for me until I get back,” and then he turns around and leaves the room.

The words barely register before he’s gone, and Mike is left to blink after him, having absolutely no idea what is going to happen next.

What happens next is nothing.

A minute passes, then two. Mike involuntarily counts the seconds, having gotten used to keeping track during their scenes, as he listens for the sound of Harvey’s footsteps returning.

It never comes.

Three minutes. Then five. Mike’s eyes roam the ceiling, looking for inconsistencies to keep himself busy.

Eight minutes.

Mike sits up, unsure of what Harvey will do if he finds that he moved, but a glance at the door reveals that he is still nowhere to be seen, and so it doesn’t really matter.

The ten minute mark comes and goes without anything happening. No matter how closely Mike listens, he can’t hear Harvey moving around the apartment. He shifts when his legs start getting numb, trying to make as little noise as possible.

Mike is not even sure if they are still sceneing. They must be. It can’t be over. Harvey said he should wait for him, that he’d be back. He hasn’t punished Mike yet. And he wouldn’t leave him high and dry like this, end a scene without proper aftercare. Even if Mike was bad. Would he?

No. Harvey said he would be back.

Sixteen minutes. Mike decides that they are definitely still sceneing, and he should therefore get on his knees and resume his starting position for when Harvey returns. He has been bad, but there is no reason to make things worse. He should make it up to Harvey. Just as soon as he gets back, he is going to make it up to him.

Mike slides off the sheets, sinking to his knees before the bed, hands behind his back, away from his cock. He is soft anyway.

Twenty minutes pass. Twenty-five minutes pass. Half an hour passes, and Mike finally accepts that Harvey is not coming back.

He will at one point, he is sure of that, but there is no way of telling when, and Mike is beginning to understand that he doesn’t need to. Harvey decided not to tell him, so Mike doesn’t need to know. That’s what this is about, after all. Mike is willingly giving up control to Harvey, who is taking care of him, and following his lead in repayment is the least Mike can do.

So he waits.

Time passes in a blur. A part of Mike’s brain keeps counting, keeps track because that’s what he’s been conditioned to do, that’s what he’s always done.

The remaining parts of him wait.

Harvey’s steps, when they finally sound, catch him off guard. It’s been over forty minutes, long enough for Mike to lose himself in the rhythm of his own breathing. He looks up, blinking at Harvey until his eyes focus, surprised by how drowsy he is.

“How are you feeling?” Harvey asks. The question is posed without empathy or emotion, perfectly neutral, but at least the icy tone of his voice is gone.

Mike has to swallow twice before he can speak.

“I’m not sure, sir,” he replies honestly. “I’m… it’s weird.”

Harvey nods, like that isn’t news to him. “You may have noticed that this was part of your punishment. You took it very well. I’m pleased that you kneeled for me without having to be told. However, this was nowhere near enough to make up for your behavior. We’re not done yet.”

No, of course they aren’t. Mike didn’t expect them to be. He doesn’t think about trying to bargain, doesn’t even want to. He knows he deserves this. He nods mutely, watching Harvey cross the room. He returns with the cane in hand, regarding him silently.

“You will get fifteen strikes as your punishment. You can take them on your knees like you are, or you can lie back down on the bed. It’s up to you.”

Mike doesn’t know if there’s a test in Harvey’s words, if he’s looking for something in his answer, but he doesn’t even think about that when he responds, “I want them on my knees, sir. Like this.”

It’s the only thing he can imagine right now. It’s what feels right.

“As you want,” is all Harvey says. “Turn around. You’re going to count.”

“Yes, sir,” Mike agrees, scrambling to present his back to Harvey. He braces himself for the first stroke, grunting when it lands instantly.

“One.”

It hurts. Badly. But Mike has earned this, he deserves it, and in a way he thinks he wanted it, too. He accepts the strikes as they come, his body seeming to absorb them and take them straight to a place where he can harbor the pain, live through it exactly as he needs to.

It hurts, and that’s right. That’s the way it should be. Harvey is giving him just what he requires, what he’s earned, and Mike is swamped by a wave of gratitude that he’s taking care of this, of _him_.

Mike has always had to take care of himself. To finally be able to give that up and hand it over to someone he trusts is relieving in a way Mike never expected it to feel.

He’s beginning to realize it’s exactly what he needed.

Two thirds through, Harvey stops. Mike waits for him to go on, braces himself for the next strike, but instead Harvey steps back. Mike glances up hazily.

“Sir?”                                                                                          

Harvey regards him quietly.

“What did you think about, while you were waiting for me?”

Mike swallows. “That I was bad.”

Harvey doesn’t say anything in reply, but Mike only needs to look at him to feel the urge to go on, to spill his guts and let him know what is going on inside his head. He wants to be good for Harvey, to show him how grateful he is that he’s doing this for him.

Clearing his throat, he continues, “That I was giving up control willingly, and that I had to follow your lead. That I trusted you not to abandon me, to take care of me, even when I couldn’t see your reasons for leaving me behind.”

It’s a relief to say it out loud, to let Harvey know that he gets it now.

“Very good,” Harvey mutters. Mike absorbs the praise like air. “Do you understand now that whatever I decide to do with you always serves a purpose? That I only have your best interest at heart, even when it’s not apparent to you in that moment?”

“Yes, sir. I understand.”

Harvey nods. Brushing Mike’s jaw, he tilts his head. “I know that it goes against your nature, that you’re used to always thinking and being one step ahead, but you have to understand that you don’t need to do that in here. This is a safe space. It’s about allowing you to stop thinking. You can’t go on in here like you do out there. That’s not the point. It only hinders you.”

He caresses Mike’s cheek, and his voice is not unkind when he says, “You crave letting go. You want to submit so badly, but you struggle with shutting off that brain of yours. You have to stop fighting yourself and give in to that urge.”

Mike is surprised by the tears welling up in his eyes. “I’m sorry, sir,” he whispers, feeling weighed down by the truth in Harvey’s words.

“It’s alright. I’m going to lead the way for you, that’s why we’re here. You just have to follow me.”

“I will, sir,” Mike promises. “I will. I’m so sorry.”

“Then I forgive you.”

Mike lets out a shaky breath. “Thank you, sir.”

It’s about everything, all the things that Harvey has done for him that Mike can’t put into words, but Harvey nods, and Mike knows he understands.

“You have five more strikes left,” Harvey says. “Can you take them for me?”

Mike nods, inhaling sharply. “I can, sir.”

Harvey resumes his punishment, and Mike dutifully counts the final strokes. They feel lighter somehow. He knows they aren’t because his back is hurting like hell and Harvey is adding to it with every touch of the cane, but Mike takes them easier now. Maybe it’s because he knows it’s almost over. Maybe it’s because he finally understands something, emotionally, that he never quite grasped before.

The room is quiet once the final strike lands.

“Turn around,” Harvey asks. Mike shifts on his knees until he faces Harvey. The cane is still in his hand, and Mike leans in to kiss it, ignoring the stretch of his burning skin.

“Thank you, sir. For my discipline. And for my punishment.”

“You’re welcome. And thank you, too.”

Harvey puts the cane down, then steps in, offering his hand. “Come here. Are you good to get up?”

“Think so,” Mike mutters. Harvey’s hands steady him until he isn’t about to topple over anymore.

“That’s it, there we go. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, I’m good,” Mike assures him. Harvey searches his face, then steps away. Mike mourns the loss of his warmth briefly, but he knows that it will return soon.

“Do you want some water?” Harvey asks while he fetches the blanket. Mike shakes his head.

“Maybe later.”

Harvey wraps him up before he guides him onto the bed, staying close enough for Mike to draw on his warmth. “Just say the word. If you need anything, you let me know.”

“I will. Thanks.”

Harvey’s hands move up and down his arm endlessly, staying clear of where the cane did most of the damage.

“How do you feel now?” he asks once Mike’s heartbeat has calmed down.

“At ease,” Mike tells him after a short moment of consideration. “I think I needed that,” he explains, lifting his shoulders a little. “To see what you would do. How far I could take it.”

“I could tell.” Harvey’s voice is free of any judgment, just understanding and calm. “Did you get it out of your system now?”

“Oh, yeah,” Mike confirms, making a face when the pain returns to the front of his mind as soon as he focuses on it. Right now he’s flooded with hormones, but he’s going to feel the weals the cane left behind tomorrow, and probably a few days after that. “Quite thoroughly, I assure you.”

Harvey looks entirely too amused for Mike’s taste, but the hand on his arm is nothing but gentle, which is all that really matters. “I told you you’d know the difference between play and punishment.”

“Oh, I know it,” Mike mutters. He blinks a few times, fighting the drowsiness taking hold of him. He’s worn out and warm and comfortable, Harvey’s hands are steadily drawing circles on his back, and he couldn’t move now if he wanted to. “You made that… really quite… clear.” He interrupts himself with a long yawn, then takes a deep breath. “God. Do you mind if I just…”

He vaguely nods at the duvet, and Harvey huffs quietly, wrapping the blanket tighter around him.

“Of course. What, you think I’d let you go home after a scene like that? You’re not going anywhere. You’ll stay the night.”

“Yes, sir,” Mike mumbles, snuggling into his arms, and he feels Harvey’s smile more than he sees it, his eyes already drooping.

“Good boy,” Harvey murmurs, so quietly that Mike thinks he might have dreamed it, but it's enough to make him smile too. It's the last thing he hears before he falls asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made up all the legal details and cases from scratch in this and the following chapters, so if they don't make sense, consider it artistic freedom ;)

“So I was thinking,” Mike begins casually as he grabs some naan bread, then passes it on to Harvey.

“Really.”

Mike rolls his eyes. “Yeah, believe it or not, that does happen. As I was saying, I was thinking about our scenes, and how we haven’t really done any restraining so far apart from the ball gag that one time.”

Harvey takes some bread as he listens. They are not sceneing tonight, Mike just dropped by after work to look over some files and stayed afterwards. Harvey ordered dinner at one point, and while the TV is on low volume in the background, neither of them is really paying attention to it.

“Would you like that?”

“Yeah, I think I really would. I mean, we put it in the contract and everything, so I assume it’s going to happen sooner or later. But I liked the gag, and I could tell you did too, so I thought, why not take that further?”

Harvey smiles. “You’re assuming correctly. I wasn’t going to pursue it this soon, but if you want to try, there’s nothing speaking against it.”

“Great!” Mike lights up. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

Harvey cocks his head. “That excited, huh? Is that something you’ve done before, or is this just your curiosity speaking?”

“No, I’ve tried it. Well, you know I haven’t really done all that much, but I’ve played around a little with my previous doms. You know, the usual lowkey kinky stuff. Handcuffs, using scarves as a blindfold, that sort of thing. We never really went further, but… I’ve always been intrigued by that, so I think this could be really good.”

“I’m positive it will be,” Harvey agrees, and his smug face should be annoying, but it just makes Mike feel fond. He feels the same way, after all.

Harvey tears off a piece of his bread. “So what exactly are you interested in? Are we talking actual bondage here or ‘lowkey kinky stuff’, as you put it?”

“Uh… anything goes, I guess? I mean, I’m totally open to whatever you want to try. I trust you to do it right.” He glances at him. “So… have _you_ done that before?”

Harvey smirks around his bread. “Let’s say I’m not unexperienced,” he explains entirely unhelpfully.

Mike tilts is head, pointing his fork at Harvey. “Do you know you always do that? You evade my questions about your past in the Scene every time. You never tell me anything.”

Harvey is still smiling. “What makes you think you have a right to know?”

“Nothing. I just guess it’s kind of unfair how you expect total transparency from me and never open up yourself.”

Harvey narrows his eyes, and Mike grins, because he can’t be punished for his big mouth outside of a scene, and Harvey can’t tell him off either because he knows he’s right.

Harvey gives him a calculating look. “It was part of my training, and after that I’ve done it a few times,” he finally says. “I’ll be honest with you, I haven’t done it in quite a while, but I assure you that I’ll get back into it quickly.”

“Part of your training,” Mike repeats, scrutinizing him. “Wait, you mean you actually went through some lessons or something before you became a dom?”

“I’ve always been a dominant,” Harvey corrects. “But I like to be good at what I do and do it right, so I looked for someone to teach me before trying my hand at it.”

“Oh my god.” Mike shakes his head. “Is that how you got so good at all this? Wait. _That’s_ where you know this Jordan guy from, isn’t it? You never actually told me about him.”

He completely forgot about Jordan after their little game, this new development taking up all the space in his head. He just assumed that it was someone Harvey knew from the Scene, maybe another dom from a club he went to or something, but now he’s asking himself if there isn’t more to the story.

Judging by Harvey’s expression, he isn’t too far off. “Don’t go thinking my skills are the product of someone else’s doing, but Jordan taught me a lot of what I know,” he replies diplomatically, which only leaves Mike with more questions. He is swamped by a wave of sudden burning curiosity about that part of Harvey’s life, about Jordan and who he was to him, if they still talk and how much more there is that Mike hasn’t even seen the metaphorical tip of the iceberg of.

He has more questions than he can pose, so he decides to start with the first one that pops into his head.

“So, when you say part of your training, do you mean that someone did that to you or that you were taught how to do it?” He pauses, narrowing his eyes. “Was it both?”

Harvey shakes his head, waving his fork. “Maybe I’ll tell you that story one day. But not tonight.”

Mike sighs but accepts his fate, knowing he won’t be able to change Harvey’s mind anyway. Smiling cheekily, he asks, “You mean I haven’t earned the privilege yet, Sir?”

Harvey shoots him a look. “Gotta have something to look forward to, right?”

Mike lets out a longsuffering groan, but he doesn’t really mean it. “As long as it’s worth the wait,” he mutters.

Harvey chuckles. “You know it will be. Everything is.”

Mike doesn’t even tease him for his confidence, because they agreed to be truthful with each other, and as smug as Harvey is about this, he’s also goddamn right.

*

“Finally,” Mike sighs when he walks by Harvey’s office again to see that he’s hung up the phone at last. Harvey waves him inside, and he asks, “Who was that?”

“Sugden.”

“Oh god. That long? What did he want now?”

“To give me some bullshit story about how the mix-up must have been an inside job that I’m not sure I buy, but he did tell me where to look at least. In addition to his tragic life story.”

“Tragic?”

“Tragically boring.” Harvey tilts his head. “Whatever it is you came here for, it’s going to have to wait. I need you to check all the files for inconsistencies, but go back another five years this time. If what he told me is true, it has to be in there.”

“Fine. I’ll check again.” Mike sighs. “This is gonna cost me another hour.” He was hoping to get out of here in time to take a shower and grab some of his things before showing up at Harvey’s, but no such luck.

“Then you’d better get to work.”

Mike rolls his eyes at the amused curve of Harvey’s lips. “Yeah, like I’m the only one who wants me to finish early.”

He checks the clock, then glances at Donna’s desk to make sure she’s not there. “I think I’ll still be out of here in time, but I wanna drop by my apartment first, get some stuff in case I stay over again. I was thinking that you could grab dinner on the way so we can eat before the scene. Or I could get it, if you want.”

Harvey scoffs. “Alright, dear. As long as you don't forget to pick up the kids.” He scribbles something down, then shuts his file and gets up. “You go home and get whatever you need, I’ll take care of dinner. Don’t dawdle on your way over. And finish the contract I asked you to draft for Madison before you leave.”

“Yeah. Sure,” Mike says, but Harvey is already halfway out of the door. Blinking after him, he frowns.

It was a joke. Harvey makes jokes all the time. They are always in good faith, and if he really had an issue, he would say so. It’s nothing to think about.

But still something about it irks Mike.

He can’t even say that Harvey is wrong. They are quickly crossing any lines that are still left without as much as a glance back. But that’s just natural, isn’t it? With an arrangement like theirs, there can’t be many lines existing between them. And, okay, maybe it does seem a little… domestic at times. When you look at it from a specific angle. Which doesn’t mean that they aren’t both clear on where they stand. No reason to second-guess that.

“Mike? Are you alright?”

He looks up, blinking at Donna as she returns to her desk. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

She raises her eyebrows. “Are you waiting for Harvey?”

“No, actually I was just leaving.”

“Alright.”

She gives him another look, and Mike stifles a sigh, gathering his files before she can start asking any more questions. He’s wasted enough time standing around as it is.

*

For whatever reason, the issue doesn’t leave him alone.

Mike doesn’t lie awake every night thinking about it, but it keeps coming back to him at the most inconvenient times. He doesn’t know why, but the thoughts persist until he can’t help but start obsessing over them.

Because maybe, truthfully, there is more to it than Mike initially wanted to admit. If he’s honest, it feels a bit like he’s been walking on clouds recently and Harvey’s words have brought him firmly back to earth.

It’s been three days, and they scened as usual, laughed as usual, and went back to work come Monday as usual, but still Mike can’t stop thinking about it.

It was just a harmless remark, and he knows Harvey didn’t mean anything by it, but that’s precisely the point, isn’t it? To Harvey, all this is just casual, a hobby that he clearly enjoys, but could just as well drop if it came to it – the six months mentioned in their contract are proof of that.

Mike, in the meantime, may have gotten a little too comfortable pretending.

He didn’t want to admit it at first, but the longer he thinks about it, the more he realizes it’s true. Harvey is just too damn good at what he does. He is giving Mike everything he was looking for and so much more. They were close before, but this is a whole other level. They hang out constantly, they see each other at their most private, and there is an understanding in every look they share that he can’t imagine having with anyone else. And it’s nice, to have that with someone you trust. To have something to fall back on after a long day or a tricky case or just when he feels like it, really.

Mike never thought it was a relationship, but it sure as hell started to look like one.

But Harvey doesn’t do relationships, and certainly not with him, and that’s not what this is about anyway. It’s about meeting needs, and Mike’s desire for harmony and someone to lean on just doesn’t happen to be one of them.

Maybe it was a good thing Harvey said what he said. It was a reminder to Mike that he shouldn’t get too used to this. Their arrangement may be great, but that doesn’t mean he ought to rely on it the way he did. However good this is, it’s not going to last.

He knew that going on. He knew, and he chastises himself for getting too comfortable where he is anyway. He always sets himself up for disaster, doesn’t he? It’s a good thing he realized early enough this time.

“Is the case this tricky, or is that just your normal thinking face?”

Mike startles, glancing up to see Rachel leaning on the chair opposite him. He deliberately sought out the deepest corner of the library to get some peace and quiet, so he wasn’t expecting anyone.

“Just my normal thinking face, I guess. How did you know I was here?”

“I was looking for a precedent,” she says. “I didn’t actually think anyone would be here.” She tilts her head. “Why, do you not want to be found?”

“I never said I didn’t.” The tone of his voice was clear enough, but he’s not about to admit to that.

She gives him a knowing smile. “Don’t want to talk about it?”

“There’s not really anything to talk about,” Mike says, then nods towards her files. “What are you working on?”

“The Michaelson and Carpenter merger with Louis. You?”

Mike waves his hand. “Something for Harvey.”

“Isn’t it always.”

“Yeah.” He clears his throat. “So, found anything?”

“I’m not sure yet.” Rachel sighs. “This is gonna take some time to go through. Louis will be over the moon.”

Mike snorts. “Yeah, I can imagine.”

After a moment of consideration, he points at the chair. “Well, he can’t yell at you if he can’t find you.”

Rachel raises her eyebrows. “You don’t mind?”

“I can use the distraction, believe me. Come on, I’ll help you look through that. I need a break from this stuff anyway.”

Rachel only hesitates briefly before she sits down, giving him a thankful smile. Mike takes the files she hands him. “What are we looking for?”

“Anything we can use to show that Michaelson selling half his shares while negotiating despite oral contracts is not enough ground for a retraction of the signed contract from Carpenter’s side.”

Mike nods. “Got it.”

It does take some time, but Mike is glad to have something else to bite his teeth into for a while. They work through the stack for over an hour, and it feels good to exercise his mind and share in the mostly quiet company.

When they have read through the last file, ending up with a considerable list of precedents, Rachel slumps back with a sigh. “Finally. _Thank_ you for your help, Mike.”

“Don’t mention it. Actually, you know what? Do mention it. Many times, especially when Harvey and Louis are nearby. Or better yet, Jessica.”

Rachel snorts. “Like you need any more recognition around here.” She shakes her head. “Harvey’s golden boy.”

The laughter sticks in Mike’s throat. “You know, the reality of that isn’t half as glamorous as people think.” The reality of it is actually nowhere near what anyone imagines, he’s fairly certain, but he sure as hell isn’t going to mention that. “Besides, my work here isn’t done until I’m Jessica’s golden boy.”

Rachel laughs. “If you manage that, you’ll have my utmost respect. Although I actually think that becoming Louis’ golden boy is even harder. If he doesn’t pick you, there’s not much you can do to change his mind.”

“You’re right,” Mike concedes. “How is his mood these days?”

“Changeable,” Rachel settles on after a beat, narrowing her eyes. “Which isn’t news, I know, but it’s still challenging to deal with.”

“Tell me about it. He give you the pony speech yet?”

Rachel scoffs. “You mean today? Only twice.” She shakes her head. “On one hand, all his theatrics really add to the stress. On the other, he’s a damn good lawyer, and working with him teaches me more than any textbook ever could.”

“It does.” Mike nods. “And it’s worth a lot of what he puts you through. But after a certain amount of time…”

“You just have enough,” Rachel finishes. “Well, thanks to this, we might be done with the case before it gets to that.”

“You mean thanks to me? Yeah, I guess I’m just that good.”

“I think you pronounced ‘cocky’ wrong.” Rachel’s eyes fall on their list. “I wonder what Louis will say when I show him this. If he’ll go for the one I’ll suggest or not.”

“If he’s smart, he’ll go for it.”

“Well, he doesn’t always handle people telling him what to do that well. But he knows it’s what I do. He should have expected that when he asked for me on this case.”

“Wait, he actually asked for you?”

Mike can’t quite keep the impressed tone out of his voice. Rachel lifts an eyebrow. “You sound surprised. I guess I’m just that good.”

Her eyes twinkle, and Mike is suddenly reminded of why he was so desperate to go out with her once before things fell apart between them. It’s a shame that didn’t work out. It would have been… nice.

It was never more, which is precisely why they didn’t stay together, but Mike still likes her, and he finds himself wanting to spend more time with her, if only because this reminded him how pleasant her company is.

“So actually _you’re_ Louis’ golden boy?” he teases.

Rachel huffs. “Yeah, sure. You don’t know how our last case went. We had a fight so big I had to agree to go mudding with him just to get him to listen.”

Mike’s eyes widen. “Did you?”

“Really, Mike. I don’t mud and tell.”

“Oh, come on, Rachel! You can’t just say something like that and then not tell me the story.”

Rachel sighs. “You’re never telling anyone about this,” she threatens.

Mike nods dutifully. “Yes, Ma’am.”

Rachel doesn’t notice him freezing, instead leaning in to reveal all the embarrassing details.

As he listens to Rachel’s story, Mike remembers how much fun they used to have together, just talking about everything and nothing. They haven't done this in a long time, and it's... well, nice. Not in the way they used to aim for, not like it is with Harvey, but it's nice nevertheless, and Mike could use a few more friends in his life to distract him from what’s going on. And so when Rachel asks if he wants to grab a bite later and continue their talk, he doesn't even have to think about agreeing.

He knows that Rachel is still interested, and it's not like he isn't into her either. What’s wrong with nice, anyway? It doesn’t have to be about getting serious again. But they like each other, and so what if it leads somewhere? Mike doesn’t plan for it, but if it did, it wouldn't be a problem. He's allowed to sleep with other people, Harvey made that very clear.

Either way, this will take his mind off things, and that’s just what he needs right now.

“Tell you what. I’ll finish my research for Harvey and then I’ll meet you in your office. You pick a place.”

“Smart choice.” Rachel smirks. “Be warned, though. I feel like sushi tonight.”

“Sushi it is,” Mike agrees, and it’s not even a lie when he adds, “Can’t wait.”

*

Harvey checks the clock for the fourth time, exhaling deeply. Ten minutes to their deposition, and Mike still hasn’t shown up with the documents Harvey sent him to fetch.

Another two minutes pass before Harvey has enough, shutting his laptop and getting up. Halting at Donna’s desk, he asks, “Donna, have you seen Mike?”

“Rachel’s office,” she says without looking up. Harvey nods, making his way towards it. He stops short when he spots Mike inside, the glass walls allowing him a clear view of what’s going on.

Mike is not working like he expected him to. He is leaning on the desk, a mischievous look on his face. Rachel is angled towards him, throwing her head back as she laughs at whatever Mike just said to her. He adds something Harvey can’t hear, and she grins, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

Harvey narrows his eyes.

“Like I couldn’t have if I’d wanted to,” he hears Mike saying when he steps through the door, not bothering to knock.

“What are you so sure you could have done now? Never mind, I don’t actually give a shit, and neither should you when I’m still waiting for those files.”

“I was just gonna get them to you,” Mike says with an easy smile. Harvey’s annoyance spikes at the sight.

“Sure you were. Come on, stop flirting and get back to what I actually pay you for. We’re late for our deposition.”

“We have about six minutes and forty seconds left, but sure,” Mike remarks, but Harvey has already turned around, not looking back to see if Mike is following. He had better be.

He decidedly doesn’t listen when Mike and Rachel exchange a few more words, chuckling before Mike’s footsteps sound behind him. He has absolutely no desire to hear what they’re saying. The two of them were clearly flirting, but even more, they seemed familiar with each other in a way that surprises Harvey for reasons he can’t put into words.

He didn’t know Mike and Rachel were seeing each other again. Not that it matters. It’s probably not even serious, or Mike would have ended their arrangement already. Unless Rachel is fine with him doing that on the side.

Harvey huffs. What does it matter what Rachel thinks, or who Mike sees in his spare time? Harvey doesn’t care about any of that as long as their contract is being fulfilled. He only cares about mastering the deposition, and they can’t do that if Mike’s mind is elsewhere.

Thankfully, Mike seems to focus on what’s important in time. They slay their opponent, cutting their client a deal that is even better than what they promised her, and Harvey goes home with the tingle of victory and the triumphant smile Mike gave him after their win lingering on his mind.

Not in the mood to cook something, he orders in. He eats a few bites of his risotto, then puts the rest away. He’s had better, and he’s not all that hungry anyway.

After finishing the last of his paperwork, he puts on some Star Trek. It’s the episode with the parallel universe. It’s a good one.

Harvey switches it off halfway through.

A glance at the clock reveals that it’s still early. He’s done with all his work for the day and he doesn’t have to be at the office until ten thirty tomorrow.

An idea creeps up on him, and the more he considers it, the more he realizes it’s exactly what he needs right now. He feels like doing a scene – it’s the middle of the week, but there are no rules saying that this part of his life has to be limited to Friday nights. Or to Mike.

Mike is clearly going on with his life as usual too, so there is no reason why Harvey shouldn’t do the same. He used to go to the club from time to time before. Why not now? They scored a victory today, after all. Harvey doesn’t need a reason to celebrate, but he’ll sure as hell take it when he’s handed one.

He drains his glass, then gets up to change.

The club should be opening right about now. If he’s lucky, he might find someone to celebrate with him.

*

The sub is a lucky shot. He’s a regular. Harvey has seen him around before, has noticed him looking on his rare visits to the club, but he has never approached him. Tonight, Harvey does.

He hasn’t been here in quite a while, even before Mike, but the familiar scent hanging in the air, like heavy vanilla and a hint of disinfectant underneath, instantly puts him in the right mindset. The night is young, Harvey yearns to exercise his authority, and the club is full of people willing to follow his lead.

It was the right decision, coming here. Harvey straightens as he walks through the doors, adrenaline already pooling in his stomach as he heads for the bar. He orders a coke, wanting a clear head for what he has planned. He leans against the counter, taking a sip as he scans the crowd.

That’s when he sees him.

He’s standing in the corner at the other side of the room, and Harvey knows the instant their eyes meet that it’s going to be him tonight. Him or no one at all. He tilts his head, never breaking eye contact as he lifts an eyebrow.

The guy is of average build, about as tall as Harvey, if a little slimmer. Some curls fall into his face, casting shadows over his features. It’s hard to tell from where he’s standing, but Harvey thinks he can see him smiling. Before he can be sure he pushes himself up from the wall, making his way towards him.

“You’re either going to follow up on that look you just gave me or I’ll be seriously disappointed. And slightly creeped out, with the way you were staring.”

Harvey lifts an eyebrow. “You’re either out for a good spanking with an attitude like that, or you’re just too lippy for your own good.”

The man laughs, throwing his hair back. “Only out here. Once we’re in there, I’m all yours. Assuming that _is_ where you want to take this, of course.”

His voice is deep and melodious. Harvey instantly likes it, imagines the way it would sound demurely answering, whispering to him from below. Heat coils in his veins, familiar and exciting and exactly what he was chasing tonight.

“You’re assuming correctly.” Harvey swirls his coke. “What’s your name?”

“Lee.” He looks like he already knows what Harvey is going to say when he asks, “And yours?”

“That doesn’t matter.” Harvey takes another sip of his coke, then faces him. “From now on, you’re going to address me as ‘sir’.”

Lee nods, his lips stretching into a smile. “Of course, Sir.”

Harvey smiles too. “Sit down,” he then tells him, nodding towards the bar. “Do you want something to drink while we go over the ground rules?”

Lee accepts a mojito – virgin, of course – and then goes right into it, rattling out a list of his soft and hard limits and everything else Harvey should know about. He clearly isn’t a stranger to this. Harvey appreciates the efficiency **.**

“Medical play is fine, pet play is more than fine, but age play is a hard limit. I’m open for pretty much anything that doesn’t involve cutting or needles, although the latter is a soft limit, so we could talk about that,” Lee finishes.

“That suits me just fine,” Harvey says. “I think we’ll find enough common ground as it is. Anything else?”

“That’s about it. I’m open for suggestions, so if you wanna try something, go for it, sir. I’ll let you know if I’m not into it. Is there anything _you_ don’t want to do?”

“No sex,” Harvey decides impulsively, then stops to consider that choice.

He normally doesn’t mind casual sex with a temporary sub, on the contrary, but something about the thought puts him off tonight. It’s not Lee, who’s as attractive as they come, but it just doesn’t feel right. Before he can inspect the reasons behind it more closely, Lee nods.

“No sex,” he agrees.

Harvey exhales quietly. “Good. I’m also not into medical play at all, so that’s not happening,” he continues, steering the conversation to other topics. They settle the basics, making sure they are on the same page, and then down the rest of their drinks before they make their way to an empty room.

Lee walks half a step behind Harvey without having to be told, and Harvey’s stomach tingles with excitement. He’s already going over everything they could do, pondering what feels right for tonight.

The rooms the club provides still look the way Harvey remembers them. The membership isn’t this expensive for nothing. People pay for discretion as much as the setting, making the expenses worth it even to those who only come here sporadically. There’s a bed and a couch, a rack, a chest of drawers containing several implements, and a small table on the side with water and candy. There’s a subtle scent in the air, noticeable without being obtrusive. Harvey has scened here enough times to associate the smell with the high it gives him instantly.

God, how he craves to feel it right now.

Luckily, Lee is at least as eager as him. If he were any more hyped, he’d be brimming with excitement. Harvey has always loved that kind of enthusiasm in a scene partner, their elation only adding to his own.

The second he closes the door behind them, Lee sinks to his knees, his eyes cast to the floor.

“What is your safeword?” Harvey asks, stepping in front of him.

“Atlas, Sir.”

Harvey tilts his head. “The Greek god?”

The corner of Lee’s mouth lifts. “Indeed, Sir. A symbol of endurance, if you will.”

“I see.”

Harvey reaches out, tracing the unfamiliar angles of his face. He closes his eyes, matching his breathing to Lee’s.

“Get up,” he then says, lifting his chin once he stands before him. “Look into my eyes.”

Lee obeys. He doesn’t look away while Harvey brushes his hands over his body, getting acquainted with the shape of him. When he’s satisfied, he takes a step back.

“Take off the rest of your clothes.”

Lee wasn’t lying about changing his attitude in here, Harvey has to give him that. He follows his orders efficiently and without hesitation, simply doing as he’s told. He’s not hard on the eyes either, and even though they agreed not to have sex, Harvey takes his time visually exploring his body.

“I’m going to start with a set of twenty strikes for your discipline. You were very cocky out there, so don’t expect me to go easy on you.”

Lee’s lips curve upwards. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Sir.”

“You don’t speak unless I ask you a direct question. That makes five more.”

Lee nods, his eyes gleaming, but he doesn’t talk. Harvey smiles.

“Get on your stomach. I want you to count every strike. Miss one and I start over.”

While Lee gets into position, Harvey approaches the drawer. He generally prefers using his own instruments because he’s familiar with them, knowing exactly how each one needs to be handled, but the club only has high quality implements, and they will do just fine. He’s not an amateur, after all. He ends up picking a beautiful single tail, admiring the sight and weight of it in his hand before he takes it over to Lee.

He offers no more warning before bringing it down on his back. Lee gasps, and Harvey hungrily watches him writhe as the color spreads on his skin.

“One.”

Harvey licks his lip, letting the tail cut the air again.

Lee takes the strikes beautifully, clearly used to compartmentalizing the pain he receives. He shifts on the bed as Harvey paints his skin red, almost dancing, darting away and offering himself up at the same time.

“Well done,” Harvey says when the last strike falls. They are both panting, Lee more obviously than him. Harvey reaches out, tracing the marks he left on him. His heart is pounding in his chest.

Beautiful, indeed.

“I’m going to tie you up now,” Harvey tells him.

He hadn’t decided right up until this moment, but looking at Lee now, he feels it’s the right choice for both of them. The lines of Lee’s body scream for Harvey to shape them, and it will be good practice for him. He wants to be perfectly prepared for Mike when they do this together.

He ignores the tingling excitement welling up in him at the prospect, returning his focus to the man before him.

“I’m going to take my time with it. If at any point it gets too uncomfortable, use your safeword or let me know by using the color system. There will be another set of twenty strikes to finish this scene afterwards, so consider this your break if you need one.”

Lee nods avidly. His chest is heaving, but his shoulders are straight. He is clearly hurting, but it looks like he’s breathing the pain instead of just enduring it.

Harvey takes another moment to admire the sight before he turns to get the rope. He already scanned the selection earlier, but now he takes his time looking through it, weighing his options. There’s cotton, hemp, and synthetic material, and Harvey touches each of them before he chooses the hemp rope. He dislikes the itchy quality of it, but he has a feeling that Lee will enjoy the element of discomfort, and Harvey likes that it has enough friction to hold everything in place.

“On your knees,” he orders, letting the rough material run through his hands as he watches Lee sink to the ground in front of him.

Then he steps in and begins his work.

It’s been a while since Harvey did this, but his hands still know how to hold the rope, how tightly to tie the knots to get the results he wants. It’s like muscle memory, and he can feel the images returning to him the longer the scene goes on. He moves slowly, precisely, partly to allow himself to get back into it, partly to savor the calm that this practice brings with it. There’s something about it, turning all his attention on a task this enticing and artistic. It requires concentration, leaving no room in his head for anything except the sub before him and the work of art he’s creating.

Lee doesn’t make a sound, letting him do as he pleases patiently. He watches in silence, the attentive look never leaving his face, but Harvey suspects that he is only half present, that his focus is merely partially on what’s transpiring here, if at all. The ease with which he seems to enter the headspace other subs chase endlessly is admirable.

A triumphant feeling takes hold of Harvey when he ties the final knot, stepping back to admire the view. He didn’t go for a complicated pattern, merely tying Lee’s arms together at several points, but it takes nothing away from the picture. It’s a gorgeous sight. Mike would look beautiful like this, too. The rope cutting into his skin, keeping him entirely at Harvey’s mercy…

His stomach flutters in anticipation, and he takes a deep breath to collect himself, making a mental note to look up similar patterns. He wants to find the perfect one for Mike, even more beautiful than this. Something special.

“You have permission to speak. How do you feel?”

“Amazing, Sir.”

Lee’s voice is dreamy and slightly slurred. It should be satisfying. It _is_ satisfying.

Harvey frowns. He looks at his work for another beat, exhaling deeply. Now that the focus he put on the task is gone, he’s left with a weariness in his chest he can’t quite pinpoint. He’s almost impatient. For what, he doesn’t know.

Trying to shake the feeling, Harvey says, “I’m going to take this off you now. Are you ready?”

Lee’s shoulders slump, but he nods. “I’m ready, Sir.”

It takes some time to undo the knots, some of them having compacted down with Lee’s movements, but he seems to cherish every second of it. Harvey, not so much. He is careful to keep his breathing even, doing nothing to betray his inner state. He’s supposed to be in control, to be strong and decided and offer a steadiness his sub can lean on. Lee doesn’t need to know what’s going on with him. Not that Harvey knows himself.

He used to enjoy this part, but tonight he’s almost relieved to have gotten it over with when he finally loosens the last knot.

“Get up,” he tells Lee. “That’s it. Slow and steady. Shake your arms out for me.”

He immerses himself in the familiarity of taking care of someone like this, pushing any other thoughts to the back of his mind.

“We’re getting to the last part now. You have twenty more strikes ahead of you. Remember to count them for me.”

“Yes, Sir,” Lee breathes out, his eyes already falling closed. Harvey glances at the riding crop before he picks the single tail again.

Lee gasps when the whip hits his skin, and it almost sounds like relief. Harvey focuses on it, trying to absorb the pleasure he’s giving and make it his own.

“One,” Lee sighs. Harvey hits him again.

“Two.”

The rhythm of the strokes soon takes over, his arm moving exactly the way it needs to, guided by intuition rather than conscious thought. Harvey tries to let the adrenaline take him and quiet down his mind, he really does, but something is keeping him from succeeding. It gets to the point where he becomes frustrated with it, and he stops as soon as he identifies the feeling, taking deep breaths until it has passed.

_Never let it out on a sub._

It’s one of the most important rules he learned. No matter how good or bad the sub behaves, never, ever let your emotions get the better of you.

And Lee is a good sub. He is excellent, quite frankly. Enthusiastic, a marvel to look at stretched out on the sheets like that, and experienced enough to keep the scene going smoothly.

He is excellent, and Harvey does enjoy himself, but he's not drunk on the feeling like he hoped he would be. Something’s missing, and as he stares down at Lee’s dark curls, a fleeting image of lighter, straighter hair flashing across his mind, he finally understands why.

Because Lee is a good sub, but he's not Mike. And Harvey realizes that he craves the rush that topping Mike gives him more than the act of domination alone, and that’s why this isn’t working for him, not the way it does when he has Mike on his knees and the outside world fades away to nothingness.

It’s the challenge he poses as much as the look in his eyes when he stops fighting and finally gives in to his impulses, when Harvey has him right where he wants him and for a few precious minutes they are in perfect, breathtaking balance with each other. It’s a state of equilibrium that he never achieved with anyone, but now that he has, nothing else quite compares.

It’s only natural, of course. Having a long-term power exchange is entirely different from flings at the club, and with Mike, there is also their personal acquaintance playing into it. They were friends before they became dom and sub, good friends, and colleagues too. Harvey would have been surprised if he _hadn’t_ formed an attachment of some sort.

None of that matters right now, though. None of that _should_ matter. This is not Mike, but he still has a sub before him, trusting him to take care of him. Harvey has a responsibility, a job to finish, and no matter what is going on, he always finishes what he started.

He takes a deep breath to collect himself and resumes his pace. He does his best to get involved in the scene, to immerse himself in Lee the way he strives to as a dom, the way he does with Mike, and he almost succeeds.

It’s going to have to be enough.

The final stroke lands, not nearly as satisfying as it should be. Harvey listens to Lee announcing the final count, then puts the single tail down.

“Turn around.”

When he faces him, Harvey says, “That was beautiful. You’ve been a very good boy for me, Lee.”

He ignores the way his name doesn’t seem to want to roll off his tongue, offering the single tail.

“Now thank me.”

Lee kisses the whip. “Thank you, Sir. Thank you for my discipline. Thank you for taking care of me tonight.”

“Thank you, too.”

Harvey holds out a hand, helping Lee to his feet. He is stiff and unwieldy, but there’s a blissful grin on his face.

“How are you feeling?” Harvey inquires mildly. The question is needless, but he asks anyway.

“Amazing,” Lee sighs. “That was honestly _so_ amazing. I could have gone so much longer, man. All night, probably.”

“I know.” Harvey clears his throat. “It was good though, I agree. Now let me have a look at you.”

He checks Lee’s back, then squeezes his arm with a satisfied nod. “Have a seat. I’ll get you a blanket.”

“Thanks.”

Harvey pours him a glass of water too, handing it to him once he’s all wrapped up. He gets himself one as well, sitting down on the couch to watch him. Lee seems perfectly content by himself, nipping at the water every once in a while.

“You still sure you don’t want more aftercare?”

Lee waves his hand. “I’m good. Warming myself up and getting some water is usually enough. I deal best with the aftermath by myself.”

“Alright.” Harvey prefers to make sure his subs are alright up close, but today he’s almost glad to be able to cut that part short.

They sit together for a while. Harvey gladly follows Lee’s lead, sticking to silence as they finish their water and Lee slowly returns to himself. Eventually he sighs, shedding the blanket before he gets up to stretch.

“Where’s my stuff?”

“Over here,” Harvey says, nodding at the pile of clothes. He watches Lee get dressed, who smiles at him as he buttons his jeans.

“Thanks again. Haven’t had a scene this nice in a while.”

Harvey can’t say the same, but he nods, appreciating the compliment for what it is. “Take care.”

“Yeah, I will.” Lee looks around, grabbing a piece of paper and a pen from the table. He scribbles something down.

“My number. Just in case you want to give me a call sometime, _Sir,_ ” he says, winking at him.

Harvey looks at the note. “Maybe I will.”

Lee just smiles, like he already knows Harvey won’t.

“I’ll see you around,” he says lightly. Without waiting for a reply, he turns around and leaves.

Harvey grabs his jacket and gets up as well without finishing his water, seeing no point in lingering. The room doesn’t hold any appeal anymore.

He leaves the note on the table, not looking back.

*

“So I told him – and I was like, I’m saying this with the utmost respect – I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but you’re a goddamn idiot.”

Harvey snorts. “I’m sure he was pleased to hear that.”

“Oh, you have no idea.” Mike chuckles as he kicks off his shoes, straightening them as an afterthought because he knows Harvey prefers it. The sight makes him smile. He turns away before Mike can see it. “I’m pretty sure we’re gonna have to deal with his grumpy response on Monday, but I’d say that’s a problem for future me. I’m taking the weekend off.”

“Definitely,” Harvey agrees. “You’ve earned it.”

It’s been a long week, shaped by a case that kept them up night after night and it’s far from over, but Harvey is done thinking about it for today. He couldn’t make himself give a shit about it if he wanted to, not with Mike right in front of him, nearly bouncing in his seat with excessive energy as he waves his hands around and devours the cookies he just dug out of Harvey’s cabinet.

Why the sight relaxes him so much, Harvey has no idea.

He would be lying if he said he hadn’t looked forward to this, but it surprises him nevertheless how good it feels.

He saw Mike during the week, of course, but it’s different to having him here, even when they aren’t sceneing yet. Just his presence is enough to distract Harvey from the restlessness that took hold of him the days before.

“Yeah, I have, haven’t I? Really came through there. You’re so lucky to have me.”

Harvey rolls his eyes and Mike chuckles, biting into another cookie. A few crumbs stick to the corner of his mouth that he quickly licks away, smiling widely when he catches him looking.

For some reason, Harvey can’t seem to take his eyes off him.

“You want some?”

“Are you seriously offering me my own food?”

“I’m just trying to be polite, man. You should try it sometime.”

“I literally just told you that you earned some time off, what more do you want?”

“Loads and loads of things,” Mike declares, and Harvey can’t help but chuckle when their eyes meet.

“I meant it,” he says, his smile softening. “You did well today, rookie. I don’t say that lightly.”

Mike beams at the praise. “Thanks, Harvey.”

_Beautiful,_ Harvey thinks. Oh yes, there’s that look he’s been craving for the past few days. He itches to get Mike into the bedroom, to bring him to his knees and make him his again. Something settles inside him at the sight, the piece that was missing with Lee, that had him fidgety all week. It’s better now, and they haven’t even started yet.

He exhales slowly, feeling immensely light all of a sudden.

Mike grabs another cookie. “Should I make myself comfortable or do you want me to go straight through to the bedroom?”

Harvey checks the time. “It’s a bit early, but I have nothing against starting ahead of time if you don’t mind.”

“You kidding? I’ve been looking forward to this all week, of course I don’t mind.”

Harvey smiles. “Very well. Then go ahead as soon as you’re ready.”

“Yes, Sir,” Mike agrees, and for now his tone is still laced with humor, but Harvey knows it’s only a matter of time before he will hear those exact words without a trace of irony.

Mike finishes his cookie, then wipes his hands and slides off the counter. Why he can’t sit on a chair like a normal person, Harvey has no idea. He doesn’t mind, though. For some reason, it makes him fond rather than annoyed.

When he joins him in the bedroom, Mike is already naked, waiting for him on his knees. Harvey stops short, allowing himself to just take the sight in. A quiet sigh escapes him. It’s barely audible, but the room is quiet, and Mike lifts his head at the sound, catching his gaze.

He must have seen something in it – what, Harvey doesn't know – because he raises his brows in silent question, not speaking, only waiting. Harvey just shakes his head.

Mike watches him, but nods.

_Good boy,_ Harvey has on the tip of his tongue.

“We’d better get started,” he tells him as he closes the door behind him, shutting out the external world and with it the nagging feeling he’s been carrying around with him all week. In here, tranquility awaits him as soon as the door falls shut.

“I believe we have a big session ahead of us.”


	4. Chapter 4

Something is different this time.

Mike can’t pinpoint it, but something has changed, something he senses as soon as Harvey steps into the room. He looks up when he makes a quiet sound but shows no signs of moving, and something passes over Harvey’s face, but he just shakes his head, and Mike, knowing it’s not his place to ask, lets it go. If he needed to know, Harvey would tell him.

He finally closes the door, and as soon as Mike hears the soft click, his every nerve stands to attention.

“You have no idea how I’ve been looking forward to this,” Harvey murmurs. Mike looks up, meeting his eyes before he turns to the drawer. The promise in his gaze is undeniable. Mike feels the heat of it through and through, but he barely has time to revel in it.

His discipline is underway before he knows it. Harvey picked the slapper today, and even though it brings triple-fold pain, it takes Mike no effort at all to slip into the right state of mind to enjoy it.

It’s easy to get there today, to the place where he can take the hurt and transform it into something pleasurable. Mike savors the sharp punch the leather packs, but it’s not just the pain that turns him on. It’s the way Harvey delivers the strokes, with a gentle precision like he’s caressing Mike with the strips, each strike lingering on his skin before disappearing, only to return in another place. It has Mike writhing, more into this than he expected. The duality sends jolts of pleasure through him every time the leather meets his skin, even though the gentleness can’t be more than an illusion, something his mind made up based on nothing but a whispering sensation against his burning back.

When they reach twenty, Harvey halts briefly. He must be surprised by how quickly the set passed too.

“Very good,” he murmurs, the rumble of his voice going straight through Mike. “Get on your knees.”

He turns away while Mike follows his instruction, coming back with a rope in his hands, and Mike’s heart skips a beat at the sight before it starts pounding.

“You wanted to try bondage,” Harvey says. “You’ve been a very good boy for me, so I decided to grant your wish. This is going to take some time. It’s going to be uncomfortable. I want you to think past that and keep as still as you can.”

He runs the tip of his finger along Mike’s jaw.

“You’re going to look so pretty for me. You’re going to be entirely mine. Is that what you want?”

Mike’s breath hitches. Swallowing, he hurries to nod. “Yes, Sir. That’s what I want. I want to look pretty for you. I want to be yours.”

His eyes fall shut when Harvey brushes his cheek.

“Then stand up. In front of me.”

Mike staggers to his feet. He discreetly wipes his sweaty palms on his thighs, wondering why the hell he’s this worked up already.

Harvey steps in, so close that his cock gives a desperate jolt.

“What’s your safeword?”

“Veritas, Sir.”

Like Mike is going to need it.

“Lift your arms,” Harvey tells him. Mike does, crossing them behind his head. He rests his hands on his nape, watching Harvey unfurl the rope with sure movements. He doesn’t seem to be paying attention to it at all, instead keeping his eyes on him.

Mike wills himself to stay still when Harvey reaches between his jaw and his wrist to wind the rope around his neck. It slides over his hands, settling in like a necklace. He repeats the motion a couple of times, then loops the strings at the front, leaving just enough space between the knot and Mike’s Adam’s apple to not restrict his breathing. Mike swallows tentatively, expecting to meet resistance, but Harvey’s calculation is immaculate.

A satisfied look crosses Harvey’s face, like he was waiting for Mike to test the waters, to see that this, like anything he does, is not something he just improvises. When his gaze drops from Mike’s eyes to his neck, it feels like a physical weight.

The rough texture of the rope scratches Mike’s chest when Harvey resumes his work lower down on his body. He doesn’t mean to tense up, but the sensation is almost too stimulating, goading him on relentlessly.

“Keep breathing,” Harvey instructs quietly. “In and out. In and out.”

_In and out_ , Mike repeats, forcing himself to keep up the rhythm Harvey dictated while he wraps the strings around him.

His arms are getting tired, growing heavier with every passing second, but Harvey told him to push through, and so Mike does his best to look past it. He focuses on Harvey, the steadiness of his fingers as he binds the rope around him like some sort of special gift ribbon.

There’s something fascinating about watching someone else tie you up to transform you into whatever they please, keeping you entirely at their mercy.

Mike should feel helpless. Extradited. Instead, he feels safer and more taken care of than he thought possible in his position. Harvey’s movements, though sure and efficient, never stray from the gentle side, full of care and affection. There is no way to pinpoint the latter, but to Mike, the scratching of the rope still feels like a caress, Harvey’s hands whenever they come into contact with his skin like a sweet whisper that has him shivering.

His arms are aching by now, but he barely pays attention to them. It’s something he can’t change, has no influence over, and so he merely acknowledges the discomfort while focusing his attention on what else is going on.

He is fairly entwined by the rope from his neck to his bellybutton now. He takes an experimental deep breath and is met with little resistance, not so much that it actually restricts his air supply, just enough to remind him of his position.

Harvey slides a finger beneath the rope encircling his ribcage, lifting it to put his loose end beneath it. His hand lingers on Mike’s waist once he has tied the knot before it falls away, leaving the patch of skin he was just touching cold.

“Lower your arms now,” his voice pulls him out of his thoughts, and when Mike does, he brings them together with such gentleness that his breath hitches.

It’s Harvey, he realizes. Harvey is what changed. He was never distant during a scene, never anywhere near cold or unapproachable, but he has never been this… into it before. Mike doesn’t quite know how to describe it. Because Harvey always put his entire attention on him in here, but today he almost seems transfixed, his eyes burning straight through him. And Mike responds to it immediately, his entire body straining to bare himself up to him, to get closer to that intense focus he is craving like air.

The two of them are in perfect harmony, pushing each other further and further into a state of tranquility that makes everything but the present moment blissfully, beautifully quiet.

“Hold them right here,” Harvey tells him, placing his arms in front of his body. Mike keeps perfectly still when he winds the rope through the strings covering his torso before wrapping it around his arm, just below his biceps. Going through the gap between his limbs, he circles his other arm too, weaving the rope back and forth in a hypnotizing rhythm.

The rope glides over Mike’s skin at several points now, constantly in motion as Harvey ties him up. It scratches, but Harvey’s hands ease the irritation wherever they touch him. It’s a steady back and forth, the harsh and the gentle, carrying Mike over into a state of almost meditative peace.

Eventually Harvey’s hands rest on his shoulders, sliding down his arms before he steps back, exhaling deeply. Mike is surprised to discover that somewhere along the way, he lost track of time. It could have been mere minutes or hours and he would be none the wiser, lost entirely in their shared creation of something deeply special and liberating in the most twisted way, their steady breathing in the perfect silence, the exchange of power he has never witnessed this distinctly before.

His mind has finally quieted down.

“God, you don't know how beautiful you look like this.”

Mike really doesn’t. He has an idea of what he looks like, what the knots Harvey has woven around him create, but he can’t see what Harvey sees.

What he can see, though, is him. He can see the strands of Harvey’s hair that have fallen out of place, the top button of his shirt being undone, the rise and fall of his chest, just a little too fast. He sees the mask that has slipped, the bulge in his pants mirroring his own, the rawness in his eyes as he looks at Mike, who is the sole reason for his state in the first place. He can see all the signs of Harvey’s arousal, and by god, it really _is_ beautiful.

Mike is intensely grateful that he gets to be part of this, whatever it is they created together, something few people would understand and that yet holds such a unique meaning to him that he finds it hard to even comprehend. It’s something to be felt, not explained, and by god, he’s feeling it through and through.

It’s intoxicating to see the same sentiment reflected at him in Harvey’s eyes.

“You’re doing so well. I know you’re eager to please me, and you’ve been working so hard to show me that.” Mike flushes at the praise. “I think,” Harvey says, pausing slightly, “you’ve earned a reward.”

Mike’s breath hitches. His lips part, but he remembers himself in time, settling for a hopeful look. The corner of Harvey’s mouth lifts.

“Yes, you get to come tonight. If you can do as I tell you, that is.”

Mike nods, blinking at him expectantly.

“I can see you’re more than ready,” Harvey points out, his eyes dropping to Mike’s cock. Idly running his thumb along the shaft, he adds, “I’m going to give you a hand with that. But I want you to keep still. If you move, I’m going to stop. Whether you get to finish or not is entirely up to you.”

Mike nods, then freezes mid-motion. Harvey huffs out a quiet laugh. “Good boy,” he murmurs. Mike tries his hardest not to move when he steps closer, letting his erection brush the silky fabric of his pants.

The mere thought of being this close to Harvey’s cock makes all of Mike’s blood rush downwards. He wonders when he will get to touch it again, to feel it on him or inside him. He might actually pass out when that happens. He can tell that Harvey isn’t unaffected either, and the knowledge has him groaning, the effort to keep still leaving him trembling.

“God, you’re desperate already, aren’t you?”

Before Mike can figure out if Harvey expects an answer to that, the question asked without derision but rather approval, Harvey’s hand closes around his cock and his mind immediately goes blank.

It feels _fantastic_. It’s like all his nerves are on fire where the warmth of Harvey’s palm touches him. His grip is firm, applying just the right amount of pressure as he twists his wrist slowly.

Mike barely manages to keep himself from moving, but he can’t do anything about the moan slipping past his lips. Harvey doesn’t seem to mind, his eyes dropping from Mike’s eyes to his mouth at the sound.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs.

Mike whimpers.

A simple hand job really shouldn’t feel this amazing, but he can’t bring himself to be mad about it, not when Harvey takes him through layer after layer of arousal with seemingly no effort at all.

As worked up as he already was, Mike starts leaking within seconds. Harvey’s thumb brushes the tip of his cock, spreading the wetness, and it takes every ounce of Mike’s strength to remain still at the touch. He is achingly hard, ready to burst any minute, and Harvey’s grasp around him just feels too damn good for him to last.

It takes embarrassingly little for him to come. He knows Harvey isn’t judging him, knows that there is nothing to be worried about in here, but he wishes he could last just a little longer, if only to prolong the exquisite sensation his rhythm provides. But the pleasure coils in his stomach, growing steadily, and his climax takes him before he can do anything about it.

Some part of him registers that he’s making a sound, something between a high moan and what must be Harvey’s name, and his body finally gives in as he spends himself over his hand in quick, hot pulses. Harvey steadies him, supporting him with a firm arm around his waist, and it’s a good thing he does, because Mike is not sure his legs could have held him up for another second. He is trembling all over from the continued effort and the aftermath of his orgasm, entirely cut loose from any control over his physical form.

That’s fine, though. He doesn’t need it. Harvey is there to catch him, after all.

“That’s it, I’ve got you.”

Harvey’s voice is low and comforting, wrapping around Mike like silk as he gently steers him backwards until he gets that he’s supposed to sit down. He drops like a stone, feeling lax and boneless, and he is grateful for the rope when Harvey draws back, as it seems to be the only thing holding him together right now.

“Steady,” Harvey murmurs, his hand wandering from his waist to his shoulder. “There we go. Wait for me here.”

He lets go only once Mike nods, getting a tissue to clean his other hand with before he returns, holding something Mike can’t see.

“Can you support yourself again? It’s alright if you can’t. Take your time.”

Mike shakes his head. “I’m good.”

He’s still sluggish, but he feels like he has at least basic control of his body again.

“Then stand up.”

When Mike is in front of him, Harvey holds up his hand. He’s carrying a pair of scissors. Mike blinks at them, his brain still slowed down, before he realizes what Harvey intends to use them for. Despite his immediately spiking heart rate, he has to hold back a smile.

Harvey could have just cut the rope and be done with it, but that’s not his way. He always makes sure Mike is in the picture, that there is no doubt about the fact that he is safe with him.

_Uncaring, my ass._

“I’m going to take the rope off you now. Do you trust me?”

“Yes, Sir.”

The cool edge of the scissors slides over Mike’s skin as Harvey begins cutting the knots, and he can’t help the gasp escaping him, his heart racing at the intoxicating hormones being released into his bloodstream at once. An intuitive trickle of fear runs down his spine, even though he trusts Harvey, even though he _knows_ he’s safe. It mixes better with the adrenaline than he imagined. If Mike wasn’t as spent as he is, he’d be rock-hard.

Harvey catches his gaze at the sound, but goes on, trusting that he will make himself known if he wants him to stop.

It takes disappointingly little time to remove the net that Harvey so artistically wove around him. Rationally Mike knows that he couldn’t have left it on; if his circulation hadn’t protested at some point, the outer world definitely would have, but he still mourns the short-lived nature of their masterpiece. Maybe one day they can start earlier, or just go on the whole night. He yearns to see how long he could wear Harvey’s bonds, to test his limits and find out where it would take him.

“On your knees,” Harvey tells him once he has cut the final knot around his neck, both of them holding their breath as the scissors slide over Mike’s pulse.

His feet struggle to carry him the short distance. Harvey holds out the slapper to him, and Mike kisses it dutifully.

“Thank you for my discipline, Sir. Thank you for tying me up. Thank you for letting me come.”

“You’re welcome. Thank you, too. You did beautifully.”

Mike’s cheeks burn, and he drops his eyes, taking Harvey’s hand when he holds it out to him.

“Wait here, alright? I’ll be right back.”

Mike smiles. He loves that Harvey always says that despite never leaving his sight. He opens the drawer, returning with some lotion for Mike’s skin. The cool balm has the desired soothing effect, though he suspects a big part of it is just the careful way Harvey applies it. He makes sure to massage every part of his skin that either the rope or the slapper has touched, leaving him with a comfortable warmth spreading all over his body.

Mike’s skin is barely irritated enough to warrant that level of care, but he’s not about to pass up on a treat like this.

“There we go,” Harvey murmurs, rubbing his hand over his arm. “How was that? You feeling okay?”

_“Amazing,”_ Mike enunciates, happy to leave it at that. At Harvey’s amused look, he sighs. “Honestly, I’m great. That was great. Everything’s really… great. Except I’m getting a little cold now.”

“Well, we can’t have that.” Harvey grabs the blanket he always keeps at hand. “Budge over.”

Mike gets on the bed, leaving enough space next to him. He lets himself be wrapped up, then rolls over into Harvey’s arms.

Harvey inspects him quietly. The warmth in his eyes quickly expels the cold beginning to settle in his bones. “Do you need anything? More lotion? Something to drink?”

Mike shakes his head. “I’m good. Maybe some water later, but not now. I don’t want you to move.”

“Then I won’t.”

It’s a simple statement, but to Mike it sounds like a promise.

“I thought so too, by the way,” Harvey continues. “It was amazing. Even better than I’d hoped.”

“Hell yeah. It was.”

Mike snuggles closer, letting his body rest as his mind replays what just transpired. The images make him feel safe and satisfied, and he couldn’t help the smile spreading on his lips if he tried, reveling in the sweet memories of the connection they shared in.

Maybe that’s what makes him bold enough to say what’s on his mind, to let the words slip past his lips while his guard is down and there is no filter; the fact that they were in this together. They _are_ in this together, and Harvey was at least as affected by what they did as Mike, and with his arms around him and the afterglow relaxing him more and more, he can’t think of a single reason not to. Like this, it’s easy to abandon all restrictions and just say what he wants to.

He lets out a deep breath. “D’you have any idea how nice it is?”

Harvey is quiet, brushing his cheek with the back of his finger. “What?”

“You. In here.”

Harvey chuckles. “I think a lot of people would disagree with your definition of nice.”

Mike smiles, but shakes his head. That’s not what he meant, and Harvey knows it. “I never thought I’d get to see you like this. That you could _be_ like this. It’s… it makes everything really easy. Makes me _want_ to please you. So, so much.”

His voice is quiet, the words slightly slurred, but he trusts Harvey to understand them. “I love how it makes me feel, like I’m the sole reason for everything you do. Like I’m… in every word you say, or those looks you get. It makes me feel treasured. And safe.”

And it’s not just this version of Harvey, he realizes. He always knows, no matter what, whether it’s work or a personal crisis, that Harvey has his back. He considers adding that, but his tongue is heavy, his mind hazy, and a look at Harvey tells him that he already got that from his jumbled words anyway.

They are things he could never say outside of this room, not in any other situation or context, but in here, it’s only natural. It’s… well, safe. Mike knows he is never going to be mocked for saying them. He knows he will be understood, even if he doesn’t make sense.

Harvey listens quietly, and then, surprisingly, he starts speaking too.

“It’s funny, you know? People always assume that because this is a power exchange, the dom holds all the authority and the sub is stripped of everything. Which is true on some level, of course, but to me that only covers the base of it.”

His gaze moves over Mike’s face slowly. “I do hold the power, but without you, there wouldn’t be anything for me to hold. I’m only as powerful as the sub I’m taking care of. You _are_ the reason for everything I do in here. You’re the source of my strength, what makes me authoritative in the first place. You give up control, but you never stop feeding me the power I need to carry it for you. That’s the beauty of it.”

Mike hums, gazing at him through hooded eyes. “Mhh. ‘s nice, that thought. I like it.”

“Yeah. I do, too.”

A hand pulls the blanket back over his shoulder where it has slipped away. “Sleep now,” Harvey murmurs. It’s not even a question anymore that he stays the night.

Mike nods, snuggling closer. “Night, Harvey,” he mutters around a yawn.

There is a short pressure on the crown of his head. His eyes are already closed when Harvey replies, “Good night, Mike.”

*

“Did you do something?”

Harvey looks up at the sound of Donna's voice, meeting her eyes through the glass. “I'm sure I’ve done one thing or another recently. Care to be more specific?”

“Something that could piss Jessica off.”

Harvey frowns. “Nothing I can think of. Why?”

“Because she's coming your way right now, and she looks _very_ determined. Let's hope she’s not about to kick your ass.”

Before Harvey can say anything in reply, Jessica appears in his view. She exchanges a word with Donna, then enters his office.

Harvey shuts his laptop with a canting smile. “Jessica. What can I do for you?”

“You can drop the act, for one. I'm not here to punish you for something you no doubt did.”

Why does everyone always assume he did something? Leaning back in his chair, Harvey asks, “Then why are you here?”

“On business.”

Jessica holds up a folder before dropping it on his desk. Harvey takes it, scanning the first page.

“Wilson and Moore?” he asks, glancing up at her in surprise. Jessica nods. The corner of her mouth lifts.

“As you know, they are two of our biggest clients. They’re looking to merge, and it’s turning out to be one hell of a case. Too much for one person to handle.”

Harvey starts smiling too. “And?”

“And I want you to work this case with me.”

“Like old times?”

“Like old times,” Jessica agrees.

Harvey grins. “I'll have Donna reschedule all my appointments.”

“Consider it done,” Donna tells him through the intercom, and Harvey tilts his head, waving his hand towards the door. “Lead the way.”

Jessica gives him the 411 on the case as they head for her office, then hands him a folder with the details.

As he reads up on the case, Harvey is beginning to see why she wanted someone else in on this with her. The matter is much more complex than he initially thought.

“Right,” Harvey says when he’s done, shutting the file. “What are we doing first?”

“You know what we’re doing first. We need to make sure neither of them is hiding anything from us due to some misguided belief that it’s going to make them get the better end of the deal, so we’re going over all the paperwork they are trying to drown us in and see for ourselves that they aren’t lying.”

“Which means we’re looking through all of these,” Harvey finishes, nodding towards the boxes next to her desk he noticed the minute he walked in.

“Exactly.” Jessica gives him a wide smile. “As you can see, there’s a lot to do, so I suggest you get busy, closer.”

Harvey sighs. “You just wanted me here because you know I hate this part, didn’t you?”

“I wanted you here because we haven’t worked together in too long, and this case will be big once we finish this, which I know you’re going to love,” Jessica corrects. Then she raises an eyebrow. “Besides, misery loves company.”

She grabs a file and settles in to read. Harvey sighs again before he does the same, but they both know it’s for show. He may not like this part, but he sure as hell doesn’t mind getting to work with Jessica.

It feels good to fall into their old rhythm again. It’s easy, and Harvey quickly remembers how good of a team they used to be. It’s a shame they never get to do this anymore.

Darkness falls around them as they immerse themselves in the files, but Harvey hardly notices. It’s only when Jessica shuts her folder with a glance at the clock that he sits back, rubbing his strained eyes.

“Alright, we've been at this for hours. I'm calling for a break.”

“Fine by me.” Harvey stretches his back, wincing when the joints pop. Jessica meets his gaze, and they both chuckle.

“Not as young as you used to be, huh?”

“Well, it can't all be like old times, can it?” Harvey’s stomach gives a loud rumble that moment, and he adds, “But some of it can. I'm ordering pizza, you want anything?”

“You know what I like,” Jessica tells him with a smile that he returns readily, because it's been years, but he still does.

They don’t touch the files as they wait. A break is a break, and it’s nice to just sit together and talk about something other than work for once. Their food arrives soon, and the smell makes Harvey’s mouth water. The pizza is hot and greasy, exactly what a late night at the office warrants, and he wastes no time digging into it.

He is reaching for his second slice when he notices Jessica's eyes on him. Raising his brows, he asks, “What? Did I leave a stain on your sofa?”

Jessica waves him off, regarding him thoughtfully.

“What is going on with you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Not right now, in general. You seem different. Have you met someone?”

Harvey blinks at her in surprise. His first instinct is to deny it, but he hesitates before the words come out.

Has he really been acting differently? He knows that sceneing on a regular basis has a positive impact on his mood, especially with a sub as exquisite as Mike, but he never thought it would be patent enough for other people to pick up on it.

Well, Jessica isn’t just other people. That doesn’t mean he knows how to explain any of this to her, though.

“It’s not what you think,” he settles on.

Jessica smiles. “So there is someone. I thought so.”

Harvey shakes his head. “It’s not… a relationship, if that’s what you’re thinking. It’s more of an… arrangement.”

_Smooth_. He has no idea what she’s taking from that statement, which is as vague as it gets, but she just nods, thankfully not digging deeper.

“An arrangement that seems to be doing you a world of good,” she remarks.

Harvey lifts his eyebrows. “That obvious?”

Jessica chuckles. “Harvey, you may forget it from time to time, but I do know you. Better than most people, I dare say. And if I hadn’t noticed before, that spark in your eyes just now would have told me all I need to know.”

“Huh.”

“You didn’t think anyone would be able to tell, did you?”

“Not really, no.”

“And now that someone did, you’re thinking about what kind of meaning this ‘arrangement’ actually has to you.”

Harvey huffs. “That’s ridiculous.”

Jessica just smiles.

“How long has it been going on?” she then inquires.

“About two months, give or take.”

“And you don’t intend to end it anytime soon, I’m assuming?”

“Definitely not.” Harvey would rather cut off his own hand. “It’s… good,” he admits, choosing his words carefully. He doesn’t mind sharing things with Jessica, on the contrary, but he can’t be too revealing for the sake of everyone involved. “It challenges me, in a way things rarely do. It’s a hell of a lot of fun too, and it’s nice to just be with someone every now and then, so I’m sure as hell not giving that up.”

“That all sounds quite nice.”

Harvey’s lips curve up. “Yeah. I guess it is.”

“Then I’m happy for you,” Jessica tells him. Harvey catches her gaze. She’s smiling, but it doesn’t escape him that her eyes bore into his with barely concealed scrutiny, searching for something he’s not sure he wants her to find.

Reminding himself that what Mike and he are doing is not strictly speaking against the firm’s policy and that she doesn’t know about it anyway, he tilts his chin up.

“What about you? If I have to spill about my personal life, so do you.”

“First of all, I don't _have_ to do anything, and second, you didn't either. You told me what you did because you wanted to.”

Harvey huffs. “You're too smart sometimes. It's no fun.”

“I'm getting the feeling you have a thing for smart people,” Jessica states mildly.

Harvey freezes, nearly dropping the slice he was about to eat. Before he can say anything, Jessica changes the topic.

“As for me, well, I'm... seeing someone.”

“Jessica.” Harvey puts the pizza down, turning to get a better look at her. “Tell me everything.”

“You mean like you told me everything?” At his expression, she smiles. “I know. It's not because we don't trust each other. It's because some things are better left unsaid.”

He narrows his eyes.

“What I _can_ tell you is that he's very... interesting. That man can talk for hours and I don't get tired of listening to him, which you know doesn’t happen often. He’s handsome, too. Keeps me on my toes, in the best possible way.”

Oh, Harvey is familiar with that feeling.

“So he's a lawyer too?”

Jessica tilts her head. “Something like that.”

“Do I know him?”

“You might.”

Harvey sighs. “Fine. How long have you been seeing each other?”

“Seriously? About three months. Before that, a good while longer.”

“You mean-“

“Don’t start,” she warns him with a stern look, but Harvey can still see the amusement underneath it.

“Wouldn’t dream of it. Three months, huh?” he muses. “So it’s going well?”

 “I’d say so,” she agrees, a smile on her lips that Harvey has rarely seen on her. It’s a good look.

“That’s great news, Jessica. I’m happy for you. And if you want to keep it private a little longer, I’m going to respect that.”

“It’s less a matter of wanting and more one of… it being the better call for the moment.”

“I see.” Harvey smirks at her. “If you ask me, we both deserve to have something good in our lives with all the crap we’re dealing with. Everyone needs an outlet, and I don’t see why we should give up ours. No matter what other people might have to say about it.”

“Following the rules has never been our forte, has it?” Jessica muses, tilting her head. When Harvey meets her eyes, she just smiles.

Well, so much for that. Harvey is almost positive that she knows his _arrangement_ has something to do with Mike. But she stays silent, and Harvey can make an educated guess about her reasons. If she doesn’t bring it up, he won’t have to deny it. They may both know, and they may know they’re walking a very thin line, but as long as neither of them says it out loud, there’s no need to acknowledge it.

It’s a gesture of goodwill on her part, he knows that. He hopes she can tell by his silence how much he appreciates it.

Jessica nods towards the pizza, signaling that the conversation is over. “Are you gonna finish eating that?”

Harvey takes a quick bite, then puts the box aside.

“I’ll save the rest. I have a feeling we’re going to be here for a while.”

“Then let's get back to it. This case isn't gonna win itself.”

*

Mike’s breathing is loud in his own ears. It’s calm in here. Silent. Harvey hasn’t spoken in ages, and neither has he, just waiting for an order, a touch of his hand, anything to disturb the quiet.

It’s always so wondrously quiet in this room.

“I think,” Harvey muses eventually, low and considering, “that you’re ready for something new today.”

Mike listens to his voice breathlessly. Harvey has been circling him since they finished his discipline, idly looking him up and down. He does his best not to tense up when he stops behind him, not being able to see what he’s doing unnerving and exciting him at the same time.

Harvey steps around him, a slow smile spreading on his lips.

“I’ve never told you this, but that ass of yours is something to behold. It’s quite hard to resist.”

_You’re doing a good job of it so far,_ Mike thinks dryly. He loves what they do, but he’s more than ready for some action back there as well. Considering the glint in Harvey’s eyes, his wish might finally be granted. Mike licks his lips, grateful for the years of biking that left his body in a condition appealing enough to convince him of that.

“So I’ve decided that I’m not going to resist any longer. You’re going to get a good spanking today. You may have noticed that I don’t usually like using my hands this much, but I’ll make an exception for this.”

Mike stares at him with parted lips, his cheeks flushing. Okay, so no sex, but the pictures his mind provides aren’t any less intriguing.

Harvey looks amused. “You seem in favor of that idea.”

“I am, Sir. Very much.”

“Have you ever done this before?”

“Not like this, Sir.”

“Then how?”

“Just… the occasional smack on the bum. It’s never been used for actual discipline on me, Sir. Not without an implement.”

“Then I’m going to show you what you’ve been missing,” Harvey promises. “Spanking is a common form of punishment, but I’ll make it enjoyable for you.”

Mike has absolutely no doubts about that.

Harvey sits down, waving Mike over. He complies without a word, stopping short in front of him.

Harvey pats his knees, and Mike, knowing he’s supposed to lean over them, only hesitates for a second. The position is intimidating, exposing him in a way that’s unfamiliar to him, but he trusts Harvey, and so he swallows down the trickle of apprehension and chooses to put his faith in the fact that he knows what’s best for him.

It doesn’t make the experience any less unnerving, though. Mike was never spanked as a kid, but the position instantly makes him feel like a child. His brain keeps reminding him how exposed he is, leaving him feeling naked in a way that transcends his mere lack of clothes, open and vulnerable and just the slightest bit exhilarated.

His face heats up already, without Harvey even touching him. His cock brushes the fabric of his trousers, half hard from the hormones flooding his system alone.

God, this is going to be good.

“Relax,” Harvey murmurs. Mike flinches when his hand touches his back, slowly moving down his spine. He doesn’t stop at his ass, instead giving his cheeks a gentle caress, allowing him to get accustomed to being touched there before he starts.

Mike relaxes.

“That’s it. Very good.”

A wave of gratitude swamps him at the comforting tone of Harvey’s voice. He must know what this feels like for him, and, remembering that he isn’t into humiliation, he takes the time to make sure Mike feels safe.

And he does. Remembering who he’s doing this with, what he’s doing it for, calms his nerves enough for him to focus on the pleasurable side of being exposed like this. He’s not a child about to be punished, he’s here because this is what Harvey decided they would do, and he has never let him down.

Harvey runs his hand along his backside again and again until Mike has melted against him, his soothing touch removing his insecurities until all he feels is deep, profound trust and the excitement of laying himself bare for him. The longer he is in this position, the easier it gets to let go of the awkwardness and focus on the thrill of it.

“Good boy,” Harvey praises him, his hand stilling on his ass. “You’re doing so well. I’m proud of you.”

Heat flares up in Mike’s cheeks again.

“I’ll give you fifteen strokes for now. After that I’m going to check in on you, but it goes without saying that you can use your safeword at any given time. You can also use the color system to communicate to me that you need a break. Understood?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Harvey’s fingers flex at his rough voice. “Count for me,” he says.

Mike braces himself.

Harvey has barely lifted his hand before it smacks down on his cheeks again, making him gasp.

“One,” he begins, getting only a second to breathe before the next one lands. “Two.”

He may not have done this before, but Harvey clearly has. That, or he has done his research. The position he chose relaxes the hind quarter of Mike’s bottom, allowing him to focus on nothing but the impact without tensing up.

“Three.”

There’s another advantage, Mike realizes quickly. The sensation doesn’t just unfold on his ass, it travels straight through to his genitals, leaving him hard within seconds.

“Four,” he breathes out, and then, “five, six, seven,” when Harvey immediately smacks him again.

By the time he reaches ten he is trembling, his voice breathless, but Mike barely notices. He is too caught up in the act, the rhythm of it, sending delicious shock after shock through him that would have him on his knees if he weren’t there already, because this – this feels so much more intense than he anticipated.

It’s unlike any other impact play he has participated in. He doesn’t know what it is, if it’s the thrill of embracing his vulnerability, the direct contact with Harvey’s body at so many points, or the inseparable mix of pain and arousal the sensation causes, but something about it makes him _thrive_ on the strikes.

He can hear every breath Harvey draws through his own panting. They are so close. The scent he has come to associate with him, the one he usually only gets to breathe in during aftercare, is all around him now.

The intimacy of it takes all the air out of Mike’s lungs. Every detail of it, the lasting contact, Harvey’s proximity, the touch of his skin to Mike’s with every strike, makes him feel closer to him than he thought possible. It’s like they’re connected, strung together by the pain and pleasure weaving through him in equal parts.

It hurts a lot, actually. More than Mike expected, but in the very best possible way. His cock is weeping precome. He is warm all over, wrapped up entirely in the sensation going through his body in ripples.

He must look a mess. His back is still sore from his discipline, and he can feel the blood rising to the surface on his ass, Harvey’s hands probably leaving imprints with every smack. At least he can’t see his face, which must be equally red.

Disappointment flares up in him when Harvey stops at fifteen, moving his hands up to his sides.

“How was that?”

“Very good, Sir.”

Harvey strokes his back. “Clearly. You really get off on this, don’t you?”

There’s no point in denying it, and Mike has to tell the truth anyway. “I do, Sir,” he agrees, waiting for shame to set in, for humiliation, but it never comes. He is past that, engulfed entirely by Harvey’s warmth and their connection, leaving no room for any of those emotions.

“I can tell. You have no idea how breathtaking you are like this.”

Mike’s eyes fall shut at Harvey’s soft murmur. His hands keep stroking him, distracting him from the lingering ache. He is in a state of highly aroused relaxation when he stops his ministrations, settling his hand on his bum again. The tender skin burns at the touch.

“What’s your color?”

“Green, Sir. Could not be greener.”

Harvey chuckles. “Then we’re going up to twenty now. The same rules apply.”

Mike nods. A sigh escapes him when Harvey’s hand lifts before coming down with a loud smack. It hurts more than before, his skin protesting the repeated assault, and the pain carries Mike right through to where they stopped and beyond.

He aches, the discomfort growing with every strike, and it paradoxically feels so good that he wants to weep.

Harvey must be hurting too, he thinks, his hand facing the same impact as Mike’s burning flesh as he carries out the strikes relentlessly. Something tightens in his chest at the thought, making him feel even more connected to him than before, bound together in their shared hurting.

It’s more than just that, though. They are both in pain, but each of them is hurting _for_ the other, which makes it a special kind of ache, which makes every single touch between them go both ways until they are caught up in the rush of the moment entirely.

He knows Harvey feels it too, that for the duration of this moment they are linked in ways that transcend words, and the knowledge empowers him, lifting him so high that he might actually fly.

They reach twenty long before Mike is ready to let this feeling go.

“That’s it,” Harvey murmurs, just a low rumble. “So beautiful.”

His hand lingers on Mike’s ass, then moves up his back before patting his shoulder gently.

“We’re done,” he says when Mike doesn’t move. Mike would have happily stayed where is forever, but since that isn’t an option, he lets out a deep breath and drags himself up.

Cool air hits his front in the absence of Harvey’s warmth, making the hair on his arms rise. He’s still hard, but he knows he isn’t going to come today, and he’s perfectly fine with that. He’s beginning to understand that climaxing isn’t the main goal. He gets to be aroused for arousal’s sake, learning to appreciate the feeling instead of viewing it as a means to an end. If he gets to come, that’s just an added bonus.

Harvey gets up when Mike kneels at the center of the room. He doesn’t retrieve the implement this time. Instead he holds out his hand, and Mike immediately kisses his knuckles, then leans his forehead against them.

“Thank you for my discipline, Sir. Thank you for spanking me.” On impulse, he adds, “Thank you for always taking care of me so well.”

Harvey is quiet. When he speaks, his voice has softened. “You’re very welcome. Thank you, too. For your beautiful submission.”

He helps Mike to his feet, only letting go of him once his legs are steady. He inspects him closely, and when he catches his gaze, he smiles. “Alright?”

“Yeah. I’m perfect.”

Harvey squeezes his arm. “Stay right here. I’ll grab the lotion, then we can get you nice and warm.”

“I’ll be here,” Mike says with a drowsy smile, because with everything he could possibly want right here, he’s sure as hell not going anywhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes there's a calm before the storm... sometimes there's a good old spanking session.
> 
> You can think of the guy Jessica's seeing as Jeff Malone (because fuck the timeline), but it's not relevant to the story if you'd rather not ;)


	5. Chapter 5

Mike gingerly shifts in his seat, trying not to draw any attention to his attempts at getting comfortable. He barely manages.

It’s been three days, but he still feels the dull ache of the imprints Harvey’s hand left every time he sits down. He doesn’t mind, though. On the contrary. Keeping a souvenir from the scenes has always excited him, and there’s a special thrill about being reminded of it right here at the office whenever he moves, where nobody knows what he gets up to every Friday night.

He has checked himself in the mirror this morning, satisfied that the bruises still haven’t faded. It’s that last scene in particular he wants to keep something from for as long as possible. He still feels a residual high from the intensity of it, and it’s only amplified every time his ass protests or he catches a glimpse of the marks Harvey left on him (admittedly, he has looked at them a  _lot_ ).

In short, he feels amazing.

He loves the bruises, he loves the lingering ache, he loves the childish satisfaction of having a secret that everyone around him is unaware of. Except Harvey, of course.

“You seem to be in a good mood,” he stated in amusement when he checked on him that morning.

“Yeah, you know what? I am. I feel great.”

“I can see that. So no signs of sub drop?”

“None whatsoever,” Mike assured him, returning his smile brightly.

“Good. Then get back to work. I want the contract on my desk by eleven.”

Mike nodded, just so managing to hold back the  _yes,_ _S_ _ir_  on the tip of his tongue.

It’s not that anyone overhearing them would probably even consider it strange. But that part of his life doesn’t belong here.

It belongs at Harvey’s apartment, where Mike is spending more and more time these days.

He stays over after their next scene again, which seems to be a given at this point, and really, why not? It’s not like Harvey lacks space, he clearly doesn’t mind sharing his bed, and his incredulous expression when Mike proposed going home out of courtesy was enough to assure him that he is not overstaying his welcome. 

They slept in that morning – or at least Mike did, groaning in protest when Harvey got up sometime before nine to work out – and then had a big breakfast, complete with eggs and French toast and bagels Harvey picked up on his way home.

Now it’s late in the afternoon, and Mike just so happens to still be here. They worked through some files earlier before putting on a movie they had both already seen to enjoy the rest of their Saturday, and Mike is in no hurry at all to get home. He grabs a yogurt from the fridge when he gets hungry again, sitting down on the counter as he eats. He just smiles at the look Harvey gives him, the  _what you_ _gonna_ _do about it?_  clearly implied.

“I don’t know if your grandmother ever taught you this, but the counter isn’t actually for sitting on,” Harvey remarks when he gets up to make himself another cup of coffee.

“Are you kidding? I learned this from her. It’s the most comfortable place in a kitchen, especially when you’re waiting for the cookies to come out of the oven.”

“Maybe in your kitchen. As you can see,  _I_  actually have chairs in here, and they’re as comfortable as it gets.”

Mike just shrugs. “I prefer the counter, thanks.”

Harvey sighs. “You’re hopeless. Thanks for eating my breakfast for tomorrow, by the way.”

“There’s another one in the fridge.”

“Maybe I wanted to have both of them.”

“Maybe you should stop being so greedy and worry about feeding your starving sub instead,” Mike shoots back, grinning when Harvey just rolls his eyes.

“Speaking of,” he then remarks, “if I’m gonna be staying for dinner-“

“Who said anything about dinner?”

“Did I not just tell you that I was starving? Anyway, I vote that we try that new Vietnamese place two blocks from here.”

“You’re being exceptionally demanding today, lippy. I’d be careful if I were you, I’m going to remember all of this.”

“You can’t punish me in there for something I did out here,” Mike points out.

“I can, and I will if I want to.”

Mike narrows his eyes, then smirks. “Yeah, well, if you wanna punish me, I’m ready to accept my spanking, Sir.”

Chuckling, Harvey shakes his head. “I told you, you’ll know the difference between play and punishment. You wouldn’t enjoy the latter nearly as much as you enjoyed that scene.”

“Like I was the only one who loved it.”

“I never said you were.”

They exchange a look, and Mike smiles at the warmth pooling in his belly.

“Really, though,” he then says, “I’m totally down for that, just so you know. Oh, and now that we’re on the subject already, I  _really_  wouldn’t mind doing more bondage either. Maybe even something more complicated, now that you’re all warmed up again.”

He swallows a spoonful of yogurt. “You know, considering that you hadn’t done that in a while, you were doing a damn great job of it. I hate to say it, but I'm impressed.”

“And I hate to rob you of the illusion that I'm just that good, but I had, actually.”

Mike looks up. “What do you mean?”

“I had done it. Not long before we did, too.”

Mike frowns. “But you said it had been a while when we talked about it.”

“Which was true at the time. But I went to the club and freshened up my memory just a few days earlier.”

The yogurt drips from Mike’s spoon. He barely notices. His mind is curiously blank.

“You scened with someone else?”

“Yeah, I did,” Harvey confirms.

_What the fuck._

While the meaning of the statement is perfectly clear, Mike finds himself struggling to comprehend the images of Harvey with somebody else that flood his mind, some faceless guy – or woman – on their knees before him, receiving the same care he gets from him every week.

Mike’s gut tightens at the sharp heat flaring up in him. The mere idea of what might have transpired during that scene renders him unable to think straight, the burning nausea almost consuming him. 

He hates the thought with a passion he hadn’t thought possible.

Remembering himself, Mike lowers his eyes before Harvey can catch a glimpse of what he’s thinking.

A million questions fill his head, one more invasive than the other. He resists asking if Harvey was ever going to tell him about this like a nagging boyfriend, resists saying any of what’s going through his mind, because he’s not sure what kind of things would come out that he may regret later.

He needs to take a step back and clear his head. Breathe. There is absolutely no reason for him to react this way. He’s just shocked, that’s all. Harvey was well within his rights to do that, and it’s not like he made a secret out of it. What’s the big deal?

The big deal is that Mike feels like someone just slapped him, and not in the fun way. And it’s kind of really hard to look past that.

He barely listens when Harvey’s voice cuts through the jumble in his mind, sounding entirely too lighthearted as he says, “Your wishes have been noted, but I’m making no promises to grant them. That depends entirely on your behavior and my mood.”

He grabs his coffee, glancing at the clock. “Are you seriously hungry enough for dinner already? You’re literally eating as we speak.”

“I thought you hadn't said anything about dinner,” Mike points out, still distracted.

“Don’t be silly. You’re here, of course you’re staying for dinner.”

“Right,” Mike mutters.

“I suppose I can call ahead and place our order already, if you’re really that hungry. Never let it be said that I don’t take care of my subs,” Harvey remarks, shooting him a dry look.

_My subs._

Mike manages a weak smile that falters as soon as Harvey turns away. “A bit of everything, I assume?” he calls over his shoulder.

“Sure, yeah. Whatever is fine.”

Harvey leaves the kitchen, and Mike puts his half-eaten yogurt down, tapping the spoon against his lips as he stares ahead.

Somehow he’s not all that hungry anymore.

*

The idea of Harvey sceneing with someone else sticks with him like a gum trodden in his shoe. No matter what Mike does, he can’t get it out of his head.

He did stay for dinner, having no way of getting out of it without drawing attention to himself, and he did his best to pretend that everything was fine, as if the unbidden images his brain helpfully provided weren’t playing in his mind on a loop.

Expecting the burning hatred to recede once the shock wore off, Mike went to bed early that night and tried his hardest to fall asleep. He woke up feeling not even the slightest bit better, and his mood only worsened since then. Spending the week in a huff that he knew was childish and pointless, he thought he’d at least be able to let it go once they're sceneing again.

He was wrong.

He hoped his irrational hurt would ease at being in this position, at seeing that Harvey is still his dom and nothing has changed, but instead all Mike can think about is someone else kneeling in his place, gazing up at Harvey the way he is now and receiving the same hungry look in return.

It makes him  _sick_.

Which is not exactly the best headspace to be in during a scene. He is under no illusion that Harvey isn’t picking up on his mood, he is too good a dom for that. The thought makes a bitter laugh rise in him that he does his best to swallow. He knows he’s fidgeting with restlessness, that his face betrays his state even though he tries to conceal it, and he only hopes that Harvey won’t ask why.

His suspicion is confirmed when Harvey cocks his head and muses, “You’re in a state today, aren’t you?” 

Mike tightens his jaw, letting the opportunity to speak pass.

There is a  _lot_  he could say, a lot Harvey would probably want him to, but also quite a bit he shouldn’t despite their agreement to tell him the truth. Because he knows that what he’s feeling, this sickening anger at someone he doesn’t even know, is completely unfounded. 

So what if Harvey went to the club? He has needs. Mike apparently isn’t enough to satisfy them. So fucking what? It shouldn’t have caught him as off guard as it did. 

It shouldn’t scare him so fucking much.

He knew this was never going to last forever, but that didn’t prepare him in the slightest for the onslaught of emotions at the mere prospect of Harvey dropping him for somebody else.

It’s pathetic. Mike is acting like a goddamn child, but he has no idea what to do about it, and if Harvey realizes that, there is no guarantee that he won’t decide he’s better off with someone else.

And as the past few days have shown him, that’s the very last thing Mike wants.

“I know what’s going to help with that,” Harvey says. Mike blinks, shaking the thoughts. Something stirs in his chest at the promise, a dark desire to drown out the pathetic whining inside him that tastes so much like anger, at himself, at the whole situation. He wants to prove himself, wants to show them both that he’s better than this, and he bites the inside of his cheek to stay quiet and keep himself from urging Harvey to bring it on.

He needs  _something_ , and he hopes that Harvey knows what it is better than he does.

“Hands behind your back. Don’t move,” Harvey instructs. “I’ll be right back.”

He heads for the drawer, taking out something Mike quickly identifies as a blindfold.

Well. This might be interesting.

“If you have any objections, voice them now.”

Mike stays silent, and Harvey gives a satisfied nod. He grabs Mike’s chin and tilts it up, looking into his eyes. Mike keeps still as he covers them with the fabric, smoothing it down with his thumb. He blinks against the silk, testing if he can see anything.

Harvey is clearly no stranger to this part either. It’s pitch-dark.

“I want you to focus on nothing but yourself while you wait for me,” Harvey says, stepping back once he has tied the knot.

_Wait, what?_

Mike opens his mouth, but Harvey is speaking again before he can figure out what to say. “This isn’t punishment, so I won’t be gone too long, but this isn't about the time I’m away. It’s about the time you can spend on yourself. I want you to make use of it.”

_No, no, no,_  Mike thinks, but Harvey is already walking away from him, and Mike is left alone with the darkness and the sinking feeling in his stomach that this is a very, very bad idea.

To his credit, he tries.

He takes a deep breath to collect himself when the silence grows obtrusive, giving up any attempts at hearing Harvey move around outside – he knows they're futile anyway – and focuses on himself.

Which turns out to be a bad idea. When he tries to listen to his gut and  _use the time on himself_  like Harvey told him to, all he finds are waves of irritation lapping at him, growing stronger the more he focuses on them. So he cuts the thoughts off and flexes his hands behind his back, deciding to do a physical scan. 

His hands and feet are warm, the blood still circulating fast from the extortion of his discipline. His legs? Tingling from the position he’s in, but otherwise fine. He’s used to that by now, he can think past it. His arms are hanging from his shoulders, feeling heavy and useless. Mike tries to straighten, then slumps again. No one’s there to see it anyway. His stomach feels a bit like a tight knot, and his head? Pounding unpleasantly with everything he’s trying so hard to ignore.

Mike shakes himself, exhaling deeply before repeating the procedure just to have something to do. Soon he has checked every part of his body several times, and still barely any time has passed.

Mike never knew that just sitting down could be this hard fucking labor.

It was anything but easy the last time, sure, but this is different. It took him somewhere peaceful in the end, when he was being punished. He got something out of it that made all the effort worthwhile. Today all it does is take his mind around in circles, leaving him in even more of a state than before. He can’t shut the thoughts down and it pisses him off, which makes the entire exercise redundant.

This clearly isn’t working. He needs to do something to keep himself busy. The darkness is oppressive, offering no distraction, which he knows is the point but annoys him nevertheless, and so he does the only thing he can think of.

He counts.

Harvey’s lessons have really come to fruition. The urge to keep track is ingrained in him by now, and falling back on the familiar rhythm helps to take the edge off his agitation. 

One minute passes, then another. Mike wonders when Harvey will come back as time ticks by agonizingly slow. He said this isn’t punishment, so it won’t be as long as last time. Half an hour? Twenty minutes, maybe?

The thought is off-putting, but there is nothing Mike can do but accept it if that’s where Harvey is taking this. He forces himself to keep counting the seconds, mouthing them whenever his mind wanders to make himself stick with it. Harvey told him to use the time, but this is the best he can do. If he stops counting, he may lose his mind.

It does the trick, in a way. He lets the rhythm take him, finally calming him a little, if only by dulling the knot in his guts rather than dissolving it. The more time passes, the more Mike begins to feel like he stepped out of his own body, like the congruency of his sensibility and his being is just a tad out of sync. It gives the entire moment a surreal quality, amplified by the darkness around him and the quiet he can only fill with his own breathing. It’s not exactly pleasant, but it will have to do.

He’s almost up to twenty minutes when he hears Harvey’s footsteps, the uneven number throwing him off balance. He lets out a relieved breath when the warmth of Harvey’s hands appears on the side of his face, taking off the blindfold. The touch grounds him, pulling him back into reality.

Mike blinks at the sudden light, taking a few seconds to adjust before he finds Harvey’s face.

He’s watching him quietly, his eyes narrowed in contemplation. Mike wonders what he’s seeing.

“How are you feeling?”

If only he knew. 

“I can’t really describe it, Sir,” he says after a slight pause. “Kind of… off. Dazed.”

Harvey accepts the vague explanation.

“You’ve done very well, waiting for me like I told you. Did it help?”

“I’m not sure, Sir.”

It might just have made it worse, Mike is still on the fence about that.

Harvey hums. “Then maybe this will. You’re going to receive a discipline of twenty strokes now. That ought to take your mind off things.”

Oh, yes. This is something Mike can get behind. He tries to shake the sensation the past twenty minutes left him with, focusing on the aspect of finally having something to channel his emotions into. His pulse speeds up at the prospect of the pain he’s about to face. The craving for it is morbid. It could consume Mike, if he let it.

Harvey turns to the drawer, and Mike, on impulse, bursts out, “Sir, may I please-“

He cuts off when he remembers his place, but Harvey just turns around, tilting his head.

“What is it? You may speak.”

Mike tightens his jaw. “Could I have the flogger today, Sir? Please?”

He doesn’t dare meeting Harvey’s eyes, instead staring at the tips of his shoes like they hold the answers to all his questions. Always so immaculate. How much time does Harvey spend on taking care of them?

His view shifts when Harvey takes a step towards him, and Mike shakes the thought, looking up after all.

Harvey knows he hates the flogger. He just regards him, the moment stretching into the immeasurable, and Mike resists holding his breath under Harvey’s scrutinizing gaze as he awaits his verdict.

It’s the derisive, self-destructive streak of him that made him ask in the first place, the part that despises himself for feeling what he does. He’s not sure if Harvey knows, if he can tell what’s going on inside him, that he needs this far more than the question lets on.

The silence grows before Harvey speaks. “You’ve been doing well lately, so I’m going to grant your wish. Don’t get used to it, though. I’m agreeing to this only because I think it might do you some good.”

Mike exhales in relief. “Thank you, Sir.”

“Don’t thank me yet. I have a feeling you might regret this.”

Mike is not so sure about that, but he averts his eyes and bows his head anyway.

“Get on the bed,” Harvey orders.

Mike does. He listens to him retrieving the implement, his entire body standing to attention in anticipation of the pain.

It’s a desperate, final kind of hope that the flogger is going to dissolve the mess that’s been festering in his mind for days now. Mike needs to get out of his own head, needs to cut himself off from the feelings he’s harboring, and the pervasive pain the flogger provides is the only thing he can think of that might accomplish that.

The warm touch of Harvey’s hand running down his spine catches him off guard, nearly making him tumble as it tips the balance he is working so hard to preserve.

“Count for me,” Harvey tells him.

The first stroke lands before he can say a word, and Mike immediately remembers why he despises the flogger so much. It hurts like hell, sending dozens of sharp edges into his flesh at once. But he despises the mess inside his head more, and so he writhes until he can draw breath again and then gets out, “One.”

Harvey grants him a moment before he hits him again, a little lower this time. Mike clenches his jaw until it hurts, though nowhere near enough to distract him from the pain.

“Two.”

He is burning all over. His back is on fire.  _Good,_  Mike thinks. This is what he wanted. This is what he needs.

“Three.”

The pain is mounting now, the burn of the first strikes lingering in addition to the new shocks Harvey sends through him relentlessly.

“Four.”

Mike grunts, releasing the ache through the sound, and Harvey patiently waits for him to gather his wits enough to announce the count.

_Five. Six. Seven._

God, how he hates this fucking thing. 

_Eight. Nine._

He dives into the pain. He laps it up, letting it seep into every damn part of him.

_Ten. Eleven. Twelve_.

And it continues. He barely discerns the second half of his discipline. The strikes blur together, resulting in one long, burning entity of pain that consumes everything.

The final strike lands. Mike is hurting, inside and out. The stinging of his flesh persists before it slowly, gradually recedes. The heat broiling inside him doesn’t.

Harvey was wrong. He doesn’t regret it. It’s still disappointing, though, to find that even this wasn’t enough to make it all stop. 

It just won’t fucking  _go_.

He blinks when Harvey touches his back, his hand lingering on his abused skin. “Kneel for me,” he tells him gently. 

Mike rolls over, inhaling sharply when pain shoots through him at the movement. He staggers to his feet, then kneels at the center of the room. Harvey steps in front of him with the flogger. Mike kisses it without complaint. It’s not Harvey’s fault that this wasn’t what he needed.

“Thank you, Sir. For my discipline, and for granting my wish.”

“Was it what you hoped it would be?”

Mike hesitates. “It hurt the way I expected it to,” he settles on. Harvey regards him quietly, but accepts his answer. Mike is grateful that he doesn’t ask, though he wonders what’s keeping him from it. Harvey was the one who insisted on the truth, after all. Maybe he thinks Mike just had a bad day, that there’s nothing more to it.

Or maybe he understands that whatever it is he’s feeling is impossible to put into words.

“Thank you, too.”

He takes Harvey’s hand, feeling cold and unsteady once he’s standing. While he was on his knees, he could lean on the hope that he wouldn’t have to take care of this, that Harvey would take it from him. Now he’s on his own again, with all his responsibility and his fucked up feelings. 

His back hurts, and Mike focuses on the burn, trying to get back to the place where it was nearly enough to make everything else go away.

He almost doesn’t want Harvey to rub the soothing lotion into his skin, clinging to the delusional hope that the desired effect might still arise with time. But there is no way of explaining that to him, so he endures his caresses and the strange hurt they bring with them.

“How are you feeling?” Harvey asks when he’s done, grabbing the blanket.

Mike exhales shakily. “Really fucking tired.”

It’s not a lie. He’s exhausted down to his bones. He feels utterly spent, the fatigue dulling his mind, but it’s not as quiet and calm as he hoped it would be, the things he’s trying to shut out still pulsating at the back of his head.

“You look like it,” Harvey agrees. “Let’s lie down, then.”

Mike lets himself be guided onto the mattress, welcoming the softness of the sheets and the warmth of Harvey’s body as he lowers himself next to him.

“Are you comfortable?” he murmurs, and Mike nods. Harvey’s embrace in the aftermath of their scenes has always been something of a safe haven for him, and he is just sluggish enough to let himself fall into it now, his arms calming him more than anything managed in days.

Harvey holds him closer, letting out a content sigh, and Mike shuts his eyes, waiting for his mind to quiet down enough to let him fall asleep.

*

Work is proving to be the best antidote to his irrational sorrow. Mike embraces the chaos awaiting him at the office on Monday with open arms, since it leaves him with barely enough time to ponder the images that have etched into his mind. He grabs whatever work he can get and then holes himself up in the library, glad to focus on anything other than what he’s been obsessing about.

“Brooding again?”

He looks up, blinking against the sudden change of lighting. He’s been staring at the pages for so long that his vision has blurred. When he finally focuses on her, Rachel gives him a smile.

“Hey. Working late too?”

“Yeah. Big case, you know how it is.”

He nods. She raises her eyebrows. “Want some company?”

Mike is about to tell her that he’s busy, then hesitates. She isn’t actually going to keep him from doing his work, and it’s not like he minds her presence.

Why not?

“You know what? I do.”

Rachel takes a seat, arranging the folders she was carrying around her before she picks one and gets to work. Mike watches the process with interest, not bothering to hide his smile when she catches his gaze.

“What?”

“Nothing. I just admire people who are actually organized. You know, I’m more of a do-them-as-they-come kinda guy.”

“Wouldn’t have guessed,” Rachel remarks dryly. She gathers her hair in a loose ponytail as she lifts an eyebrow. “Not all of us have brains that do all the work for us, you know. We have to compensate somehow.”

“No way. You don’t have to compensate for anything.”

Rachel chuckles. “That was smooth.”

“Didn’t you know? Smooth’s my middle name.”

“I know it’s actually James, but go on. I’m listening.”

She demonstratively opens her folder, and Mike lets her be, returning to his own files.

They work together in companionable silence, the sounds of the other people turning pages or moving their chairs far away.

Rachel’s stack has shrunk considerably when she puts down her marker, leaning back with a sigh.

“Are you doing that on purpose?”

She catches his eyes. “Doing what?”

“Taking a break after exactly thirty minutes of work.”

She just smiles, crossing her arms. “Like I said, organization is key.”

“This is actually impressive. You’re like a walking study guide.”

Rachel laughs, and Mike can’t help but grin too. “That is probably the strangest compliment I have ever received, but thanks, I suppose.”

“I meant it. It’s a good thing.”

She huffs, but the smile lingers on her lips. “My mom would probably disagree with you. She always says I got that from my dad, only I’m even worse.”

“Really? Your dad doesn’t really strike me as a planner.”

“Oh, you have no idea.” Rachel shakes her head. “He may not write lists or set timers, but that doesn’t mean he’s unorganized in any way, ever. He always has a plan, and if things don’t go his way, he gets  _very_  particular.”

“I’m sensing a story there,” Mike remarks, raising his eyebrows. 

Rachel leans in. “My parents have a house,” she begins. Mike nods. “There’s a big garden behind it. It’s my mom’s great hobby, taking care of it. It’s more than just a pastime. She goes out there when she’s sad, when she needs to stay busy, when she wants to think about something… it’s her refuge, in a way.”

She huffs, shaking her head. “The year I started high school, my parents planned a reconstruction of the garden. It was supposed to start long before Christmas so it’d be all done in time for spring.”

“Uh-oh.”

“Yeah. They hired a company to do it, but it quickly turned out that their plan wasn’t going to work. So my dad fired them and took over the planning himself. It was almost spring already at this point, mind you, and it probably would have been the smarter move to hire another company, or wait, but once he got the idea into his head… well, as it turned out, taking care of that on top of running his own law firm was  _a lot_  of work. My mom implored him countless times to hire somebody, but he wouldn’t hear any of it. He had his plan, he was gonna see it through, he said. Long story short, the garden wasn’t done by spring, or summer, and my mom wasn’t allowed to even enter it for weeks.”

“Good god,” Mike mutters.

Rachel chuckles. “I like to remember it as the summer my parents didn’t speak to each other.” She narrows her eyes. “The garden did end up looking beautiful, though.”

Mike snorts.

“You see, it runs in the family, so there’s no point in fighting it. At least we get shit done, though.”

“Which is the main thing. Remind me to never work a case with your dad though, will you?”

Rachel huffs. “I don’t see why that would ever happen, but sure.”

“Hey, I’m a great lawyer. He may want a piece of that one day, who knows?”

“Modesty really doesn’t run in  _your_  family, does it?”

“As long as my ego isn’t as big as Harvey’s, I think I’m good,” Mike shoots back, the words sticking in his throat when they catch up with him.

“Well, that’s not possible anyway, so don’t bother trying to reach his level,” Rachel remarks, then glances at the time. “Speaking of people with big egos, I should get back to this.”

“Yeah, careful, Rachel. Your ten minutes are almost up.” Mike winks at her when she gives him a look. “What are you working on, anyway?” he then wants to know.

Rachel sighs. “Class action.”

“Oh? Who are we suing?”

“No one. Our client's the one being sued. Varner Electronics are facing a class action from fourteen different plaintiffs, and we have to figure out a way to discredit all of them, fast.”

“Wow. Sounds like a lot of fun.”

“A lot of work,” she corrects. “I have to read every precedent there is to find those that work best for this case, then go through the paperwork of about a dozen different clients to see if there’s anything useful in there…”

Mike tunes out as she goes on. Instead of listening he looks at her, the sleeves of her creased blouse rolled up, her hair in a messy ponytail, and suddenly a thought pops into his head, looking better with every passing second.

Yeah, why not?

“You wanna go for dinner tomorrow night?” he cuts her off.

Rachel raises her eyebrows. “Sure,” she agrees after a beat, a smile spreading on her lips. “What time? Think we can manage to leave early for once?”

“Absolutely. The firm is just going to have to survive without our superpowers for one night.”

“Agreed. Then around eight?”

“Sounds perfect.”

Mike returns her smile, then lowers his eyes, quashing the guilt gnawing at him. He really does want to spend time with her, but he’s not oblivious to the fact that what really drove him to ask her out was the childish desire to spite Harvey.

As if he’d care. As if going on a date is anywhere near the same thing as sceneing with someone else.

Well, according to their contract both of these are allowed. And it might not be rational, but Mike feels justified in his decision nevertheless. If Harvey can go out and live his life, so can he. No big deal, right? If he wants to get past whatever stupid jealousy issue he has, he had better start looking for something to take his mind off it. And going out with Rachel is perfect for that. 

“I’ll pick a restaurant,” Rachel decides, smiling when Mike holds up his hands in surrender.

“I think we established you’re better at planning stuff, so go ahead and work your magic. Just let me know when you’ve decided.”

“I will. And now you should let me get back to work, or I’ll have to cancel on you tomorrow.”

“I’m quiet as a mouse,” Mike assures her, pretending to lock his lips. She rolls her eyes, though Mike can see her smiling.

Rachel texts him the address of the restaurant the next day, and Mike checks out its website to get the scoop on the dress code before he goes home to change. He never quite got the hang of this whole fashion thing, even after his visits at René’s became more frequent, but Rachel seems to approve of his outfit, so he can’t have done too badly.

“Looking good,” she says when he meets her at the restaurant. Pretending not to preen, Mike huffs.

“Don’t sound so surprised. I clean up nicely.” He kisses her cheek, then looks her up and down. “I could say the same about you, though.”

She laughs. “Don’t sound so surprised.”

“Trust me, I’m anything but. So,” he says, following her inside. “Korean, huh? Any recommendations?”

Rachel just huffs, like she can’t believe he’s even asking, and then dives straight into a lecture on different dishes with names Mike only understands scraps of.

“That’s pretty hot,” he remarks when she rattles out a list of starters once they’re seated. She looks up, raising her eyebrows.

“You’ve had it before? We can ask them to make it less spicy, but that’s kind of the point.”

“No, I’m talking about you. Saying all those words I don’t know the meaning of. It’s hot.”

Rachel snorts, leaning back. “I’m literally talking just listing the dishes here. That turns you on?”

“Well, I don’t know that, do I? For all I know, you could be reading me a list of your kinks right now.”

It occurs to him a second too late that this is not something people do over dinner regularly, but he shakes the thought as soon as it appears, impatiently returning his focus to Rachel. He’s not here to think about Harvey. He’s here to  _not_  think about him.

“You really are one of a kind, aren’t you?” Rachel muses, the smile playing on her lips making it clear that she doesn’t mind at all.

“There can be only one,” Mike states, then adds in explanation, “Highlander.”

“You and your movie quotes."

“You want me to stop?”

“No, by all means, go ahead.”

“As you wish.”

Rachel narrows her eyes. “That was another one, wasn’t it.”

“Princess Bride,” Mike confirms with a grin that only grows when Rachel can’t help but laugh.

“You’re incredible.”

“That’s how you like me.”

“Yeah,” she agrees, and there is that smile again. “It is.”

Mike smiles too before he returns his attention to the menu. It’s easy, casually flirting with her. It always has been, but it’s still nice, giving Mike something to fall back on, to take his mind off everything that’s going on.

He eventually settles on something to order, trusting Rachel to not let him pick anything he won’t be able to stomach, and the choice turns out to be an unexpectedly good one. They share a serving of Korean rice cake on the side, which is just as spicy as she warned him, but in a good way, making their eyes water and the laughter flow effortlessly as they make fun of themselves for it.

“Dessert?” Rachel asks when they’re done, and Mike sighs, patting his belly.

“I’d love to, but I’m stuffed. No can do. I’d be interested in a drink, though.”

“A drink it is,” Rachel agrees, waving the waiter over to ask for the cocktail list.

People around them come and go, and Mike is surprised by how much he’s enjoying himself as the night progresses. Rachel is great company, the food is amazing, and they don't stay at one drink for long. He knows they have work tomorrow, but the morning seems far away, and Mike is too relieved to have a clear head for once to let that ruin his night. 

Rachel clearly doesn’t mind either, making no sign to cut the evening short. On the contrary. She smiles at him all night, and Mike can tell where her mind is going because his is wandering in the same direction.

“It’s late,” she finally says when most people around them have left, tilting her head, and it doesn’t sound like  _I want to go home_ , it sounds like  _let’s go home together_.

“Then let’s go,” Mike replies.

He has only been at Rachel’s a few times and never for long, but there’s something about her apartment that makes him feel welcome at once.

“Do you want anything to drink?” Rachel asks, slipping out of her jacket.

“No, thank you. I’m good.”

“Right. Maybe later.”

Mike glances at her, the corner of his mouth lifting. His eyes drift over her furniture, taking in all the little changes she has made since he was last here. There’s a new cupboard, an updated picture of her parents, and fresh flowers on the windowsill that he imagines he can smell from here, though that may just be his imagination.

Rachel sits down on the couch, the space she leaves beside her a clear invitation, and so Mike stops looking around and follows her. She takes off her heels, then pulls her legs up.

“So,” Mike says.

“So,” she echoes, tilting her head.

“Is this the awkward part where we angle for the best way to make a move?”

“It doesn’t have to be awkward, Mike,” she says, smiling at him, and then she leans in and closes the distance between them.

_Okay_. This is happening faster than expected.

Rachel's lips are warm, and he can discern a hint of alcohol on them. It must be the wine she had, or the martini afterwards, which was definitely strong enough to leave a taste.

Becoming aware of his mind wandering, Mike impatiently shakes the thought. He doesn’t want to focus on alcohol. He’s kissing a beautiful woman who is clearly into him, and that's what matters. Rachel is good at it, too. Her hand wanders as their lips slide together, moving across his chest before it drops to his thigh, creeping up steadily.

Mike breaks the kiss. Rachel blinks at him when he pulls back. “What is it?”

Taking a deep breath, Mike shakes his head.

“Nothing,” he says, swallowing before he smiles. “It’s nothing,” he assures her, and then leans in to capture her lips again. He cups her face, changing his angle as she lets him in. There’s a warmth pooling in his stomach that he can’t quite decide whether he likes or not, but he pays it no mind, instead focusing on the kiss and her body getting closer to his. She raises her hand to brush his cheek before she slides it around his neck, her fingers slipping into his hair.

_Good boy._

Mike darts back like he’s been burned, squeezing his eyes shut as he tries to get rid of the faint echo in his head. What the hell is wrong with him? Why can’t he forget about Harvey for one fucking night and just enjoy what’s going on?

Why does all of this feel so goddamn off?

Rachel pulls back, and the frown creasing her forehead tells Mike that she isn’t going to let him palm her off this time. 

“What's going on, Mike?” 

The words still echo in his mind. He shakes his head, but they won’t leave him alone. Neither does the ghost of Harvey’s hands on his skin that makes his hair stand on end. He can’t get rid of the memory, can’t give in to Rachel’s touch when all he can think about is how different it is from Harvey’s. It’s like his body expects one thing and refuses to accept anything else, and Mike has no idea how to switch it off.

“Mike?”

“Nothing. It’s nothing, I just…”

Mike exhales deeply, running a hand over his face.

It’s not fair. He’s a free man, he can do whatever the hell he wants. He’s not cheating on anyone.

So why the hell does it feel that way?

It’s not  _fair_. Harvey probably had no qualms about sceneing with someone else, nor should he. Mike shouldn’t have any problems falling into bed with someone as beautiful and interesting as Rachel, should have no problem whatsoever forgetting about Harvey for once and just having a good time.

But he does. Goddamn it, he does, and the longer he sits there the more he understands, deep down, that he won’t be able to go through with this.

Rachel is drawing back further, retreating from him to her end of the couch. Mike feels the space around him acutely. He hates himself a little for almost being glad about it.

He watches her run a hand over her mouth, clearly trying to collect herself. 

“Are you with someone? Is that what this is about?”

“No.” 

At the look she gives him, he sighs. How does he even begin to describe the mess he got himself into? Never mind the fact that he signed a contract preventing him from doing so, he wouldn’t know where to start anyway. “Would you believe me If I said it's complicated?” 

“It certainly seems to be.”

He doesn’t know what else to tell her, and so he sticks to silence. Rachel regards him quietly, working things out on her own.

“You don't want this,” she finally states. It’s not a question. Just a fact.

Mike kneads his hands. “I like you,” he says in a weak attempt to evade her, but he can see in Rachel’s eyes that it’s answer enough.

She sinks back into the cushions, taking a deep breath as she brushes her hair behind her ears.

“I like you too, Mike. And I would have liked to give this another shot, but I think we've been here enough times to know that it’s not going to work. Especially with you being so hung up on someone else.”

Mike wants to scoff at her phrasing, but the sound sticks in his throat.

Because she’s not wrong. He obviously has issues with this, never mind that Harvey and he aren’t together, and if he can’t switch that off, then there’s no point going into this at all. He has the chance to sleep with a gorgeous woman, someone who knows and stimulates him on more than just the physical level, but it’s futile if he can’t let himself go. Rachel deserves better than that. 

He probably does, too.

God, this whole thing is a mess. Mike just wants to hide in a hole.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I feel like a total dick right now. I never meant to lead you on.”

“It’s okay. We tried, it didn’t work. No harm done. Next time we’ll be smarter.”

Rachel smiles a little, but it’s different now. They both know there won’t be a next time. And maybe there shouldn’t be.

Mike nods. Eventually he asks into the silence, “So what now?”

Rachel purses her lips. “Now,” she says, smoothing down her blouse as she gets up, “I’m going to make some coffee.”

"Right."

Mike didn’t exactly plan on staying, but rejecting her offer would make him feel like even more of an ass. So he accepts the cup she hands him when she returns, and he stays for a while, and to her credit, Rachel doesn’t probe or demand an explanation. They get talking again, haltingly at first, then easier and easier the longer they sit there, and altogether it's not as awkward as he thought it would be.

It’s better this way, he realizes. It’s right for them. They make good friends, and maybe they would have made it as a couple at one point, but Mike is okay with never finding out for sure. They are too far apart at this point, their rhythms just a little too out of sync to make this work. In another life, perhaps. As it is, Mike is pretty content with the way things are between them in this one.

Spending the evening with her calms him, and when he leaves, the hug Rachel gives him despite everything making him swallow, he feels a little steadier than before. Tonight did not go as expected, but that’s okay. His life might be a mess, but there’s no need to drag other people into it. 

He decides against calling a taxi, using the walk home to clear his head. The city is alive with sound around him, but he barely listens, too caught up in his own thoughts. He is overly conscious of where he is, how Harvey’s place is practically on the way, much closer than his own apartment.

He ignores the impulse to drop by to his best ability. It’s not even a scene he’s after right now. He just wants to see him, and after the way he’s been acting, he really doesn’t feel like he deserves to.

The worst part is that he knows Harvey would welcome him. He's always welcome there.

Figures, that when he finally finds a home, it’s somewhere he never should have gotten comfortable in the first place.

He wraps his coat tighter around him with a quiet sigh, keeping his eyes on the pavement as he walks.

When it's time, Mike deliberately turns to take the road leading him away from Harvey and goes home instead.


	6. Chapter 6

If Mike thought his emotions would sort themselves out over time, he was wrong. If anything, ignoring the feelings gets harder and harder by the day. He can’t stop picturing Harvey and the faceless sub, imagining what they looked like, what they did together, if he was as good to them as he is to him. Sometimes he sees a slim man on his knees, sometimes a petite woman, and he doesn’t know which option he hates more.

The image has infected his mind, and the longer it stays there, the more it festers. Sure, an arrangement like theirs is based on emotions running high, on getting close to each other, and Mike was bound to lose himself a little in it. To grow more attached than is probably wise. But this? He didn’t see this coming.

It’s not just his feelings about Harvey that changed, though. It’s their entire relationship.

Because Mike may be fixated on Harvey, but Harvey is at least as focused on him in return. Mike hates how validating it feels, how he craves the heat of his gaze on his bare skin like air. He never even has to ask for it, Harvey always gives it freely.

Their new-found connection weaves like a net around them, keeping them in perfect harmony. What Mike needs, Harvey offers. What Harvey wants, Mike is more than happy to let him have. It’s a steady give and take, a constant flow carrying them into deeper waters continuously.

While Mike still struggles with the idea of Harvey doing what they do with someone else, he manages to at least push those thoughts to the back of his mind when they’re sceneing now, diving into the distraction the sessions offer headfirst.

Harvey barely leaves him any time to ponder, anyway. Not rarely is Mike dripping with sweat, or Harvey rolls up his sleeves, the illusion of immaculacy making way for a much more raw, real version of him. Not rarely does Mike look up at Harvey, like he’s doing right now, and feel like the sight alone is setting his every nerve on fire.

Though that’s not really surprising, considering what they are doing today.

It’s startlingly quiet in the room, almost reverently so. This is new territory for them, something Harvey told Mike he decided on because he’d been doing so well lately. Mike watched him set up the nightstand in curious anticipation, holding his hands above his head willingly when Harvey took out the handcuffs.

“Are you ready?” Harvey asks once he’s properly restrained, stepping back, and Mike nods.

The match sizzles, sending a shiver down Mike’s spine, and he takes a deep breath to brace himself as Harvey lights the candles before he picks one up.

His stomach quivers as the hot wax dribbles on him only seconds later. He hisses, the sudden intensity catching him off guard.

The heat spreads, seeming to increase before the air cools it down and the burn subsides. Mike’s eyes fill with tears as he breathes through it, trying to compensate for the immediate sensation setting him on edge instantly.

It’s not easy. Mike bites his lip, straining against the handcuffs as he waits for relief. It’s a good thing they are there, because he’s not sure he could have kept still without them. Harvey probably knew that. He always does.

His adjustment period is over before the pain vanishes, but Mike is ready for more. He can take it. He _wants_ to take it, feel the heat burn him until it’s all he remembers.

Harvey tips the candle again with slow, measured movements, then again, the streaks growing longer as he varies the distance to his skin. Mike exhales deeply, releasing the air through his mouth as he hangs on until the burn eases.

“Look at you,” Harvey murmurs, his eyes fixed on his stomach. “Beautiful.”

Mike has to agree, though he’s more interested in the picture Harvey is painting on him than himself. He blinks against the gathering tears, watching him create a pattern breathlessly. The focus in his gaze as he paints him like a canvas leaves him hot where the wax hasn’t even touched him.

The color of the streaks is a stark contrast to his body, slowly flushing at the irritation. His skin is shining from the oil Harvey spread on him before, the different touches amounting to a beautiful mess of pale skin and glaring red with several hues in between.

It’s _breathtaking_. Mike is Harvey’s work of art, and he has rarely felt more proud or appreciated in his life.

“I’m yours,” he mutters without quite meaning to, but Harvey doesn’t scold him for speaking. “All yours, Sir.”

“Yeah, you are,” Harvey says. “My pretty boy. Mine to do with as I please.”

“Yes,” Mike sighs. The heat of the wax is slowly subsiding, and he chases the sensation, trying to hold on to the pain a little longer. “Show me, Sir. Please. Show me I’m yours.”

_And you’re mine in return_ , his mind whispers.

“Yes,” Harvey murmurs, almost like he’s agreeing with him. Mike shuts his eyes, gasping when a new streak meets his skin.

It’s farther up his body this time, but Harvey let the wax splatter, and the simultaneous sensation across his chest makes his eyes sting and his heart race as the heat spreads all over him.

_Yes. Good._

Harvey adds a few droplets before he puts the candle down, running his hands along Mike’s arms. The wax cools down slowly, and Mike struggles with the prolonged pain, so different from what they usually do, but Harvey’s touch distracts him enough to push through until it eases.

“That’s it, my good boy,” Harvey murmurs when he relaxes against him. “Doing so well for me.”

Mike laps the praise up. He feels bereft only shortly when Harvey withdraws, his attention soon shifting to what he’s doing next.

Harvey has lit three candles, each of them a different color. He picks a blue one now, giving it a gentle tip.

The wax drips from Mike’s stomach all the way to his groin. He inhales sharply, and Harvey gives him a moment to adjust before he repeats the procedure, painting three streaks down his belly that run together near his hip bone.

The heat itself is one thing, but feeling it so close to his genitals is something Mike wasn’t prepared for. His heart pounds as he yanks the handcuffs reflexively, the metal digging into his wrists offering only a small distraction from the searing pain.

He wonders if Harvey is going to cover his genitals too. The thought scares him, though not enough to keep his cock from responding. Treacherous thing, always has a mind of its own.

“That’s so pretty, boy. You take it so beautifully.”

Mike is not sure if he’s talking about his looks or the way he processes the pain, though it doesn’t really matter. Harvey called him pretty. Harvey called him _beautiful_. Everything else fades away in comparison.

“For you, Sir,” Mike murmurs, straining against the handcuffs. He knows it’s futile, but the desire to get closer to Harvey is too strong to withstand.

“That’s right,” Harvey agrees under his breath, eyes fixed on him. He swirls the candle, drawing circles on Mike that etch right through his skin.

“Fuck,” Mike curses, the word slipping out without his permission. His tolerance for temperature is not as high as he thought. It’s a struggle to take the pain and compartmentalize it, to face it instead of letting it overwhelm him, but the challenge keeps him busy, distracting his mind from the ugly turmoil lingering at its back.

“Stay still,” Harvey chides, though without heat. “You have no idea how incredible you look like this.”

_Tell me_ , Mike urges him quietly. _Tell me what this means to you. Tell me you don’t want anyone else like this._

Harvey doesn’t, but that’s okay. Mike thinks he can read it in the lines of his face anyway, see traces of it in the gentleness of his touch. It’s the only time he feels certain that Harvey wants him enough not to drop him, when they’re like this and the heat of his gaze makes him forget that he ever doubted it. Mike is starved for it, drinks it up like it’s the only thing that can save him somehow.

In a way, it is.

“Amazing,” Harvey whispers, the praise washing over him like a cool and cleansing wave.

_Amazing, amazing, amazing._

“I know you’re struggling, but I’m not done with you yet. And you’re doing so well.” He touches Mike’s cheek, dragging his finger down to where his pulse is racing beneath his skin. “Can you take some more for me?”

Mike nods hazily. His skin is in a state of utter despair, his nerves screaming at him to stop where the wax has abused them, but Mike _thrives_ on it. And if Harvey asked, he’d do anything. If he thinks he can take it, then Mike knows he can.

It’s this connection between them that allows them to play so freely, how they feed off each other, reading their moods effortlessly. Mike feels the bond between them like a physical extension of his body in here, and he’d stop at nothing to prolong it just a little longer.

Harvey picks up the final candle, turning it around slowly. Mike’s gaze is fixed on it, mesmerized by the black wax. He can see it dripping from miles away, watches it fall in slow motion long before his body responds to the heat.

The drop covers the hardened bits of wax on him before running over a bare patch of skin. Mike groans, his whole body tensing and writhing as he tries to cope with the mounting sensation. He’s approaching his limits fast, but the knowledge doesn’t worry him, only adds to his excitement. He’s not scared of getting there. He’s not afraid to cross the lines and find out what happens.

It wouldn’t be the first time Harvey took him somewhere he didn’t think he could get to.

“That’s it,” Harvey tells him. Mike thinks he can hear something like awe in his voice, and he clings to it like a lifeline, letting it carry him through the waves of pain holding him under.

“You look amazing, Mike. You’re doing so well. I’m so proud of you.”

A sound escapes him that is almost a sob. Mike inhales sharply, trying to compose himself, to find anything to hold on to as the feelings coursing through his system threaten to overwhelm him.

He can feel himself coming apart at the edges, and even though he tries to hold it together, it thrills him to no end. Being unraveled by Harvey is such a heavenly way to go, after all.

The wax splashes onto his skin again. He feels like his torso is on fire, the mix of hardening splatters and new burns leaving no room to take a step back. Mike is right in the middle of it all.

Harvey hushes him gently when he lets the wax drip farther down, inches from his hard cock, and Mike whimpers.

“It’s okay. You’re fine.”

Mike is about a dozen things and fine isn’t one of them, but he nods anyway. His nails dig into his palms until it stings.

“There’s a little more coming. I know you can push through it.”

Mike nods again, sniffing as he braces himself. He’s down to his last few percent, running entirely on the hormones flooding his body and Harvey’s encouragement, but it’s enough. It’ll have to be enough.

Harvey lets more wax accumulate before he tips the candle, filling in the empty spaces on his skin with the black color. It’s one last searing bite to seal the deal, to give the painting the final touch, and Mike strains to take it until Harvey is content with the image he has created.

“Breathtaking,” he utters. Mike blinks through the mist in his eyes to catch a glimpse of his expression, staring down at him with a hunger that has him trembling. He caused that. He put that look on Harvey’s face, and that’s worth every second of his struggling.

“How does it feel?” Harvey wants to know, meeting his eyes.

“I’m burning,” Mike whispers. “It’s everywhere. It hurts so much, Sir. It’s so good.”

“Yeah?”

Mike nods mutely, not trusting his voice.

Harvey smiles. “You’re going to love what’s next. You’ve earned it.”

Mike’s breath hitches when Harvey sets down the candle and rolls up his sleeves. A hesitant hope stirs in his chest, and when he sees the look in Harvey’s eyes, he finally understands why he said that this was a reward for him.

Harvey prefers not to use his hands. It's inelegant, he says. Crude. Mike, however, _loves_ when he does. He learned that the first time Harvey spanked him, and he’s been hoping to get more of it ever since. He had no idea Harvey even knew about it, but he clearly noticed, if the slight quirk of his lips as he touches Mike’s chest is any indication.

Mike stops breathing. Harvey lets him feel the point of contact for the span of a heartbeat before he digs into his skin and drags his hands down.

And Mike loses it. The second the feeling of Harvey’s nails scratching his skin registers, his mind blanks, leaving nothing but the immediate sensation on his body. It burns in an entirely different way, dull and much less sharp than the stinging heat of the wax, yet that much more intense.

This is better. This is everything.

Harvey is touching him. Harvey is _marking_ him, claiming him as his own in the most primal way, and it sets Mike off like dynamite, every contact seeping right into his core.

Mike’s heart is pounding, his breath coming in short, hard puffs. His cock aches, weeping with neglect, and Mike is distantly aware that he has long stopped holding the tears in his eyes back, but there’s not a part of him that cares. It’s a relief, an expression of the feeling Harvey is letting loose on him that he could never put into words.

“Please, Sir,” he whispers, not knowing what he’s begging for, but Harvey must hear some cue in his voice that means something to him. He’s always been so good at that, making sense of Mike’s chaos when he didn’t understand it himself.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, dragging his nails down his skin again. “Let go, I’ve got you.”

And Mike lets go. Harvey scratches his chest again and again, scraping off his work piece by piece, repeating the sweet torture until Mike is so caught up in it that he can barely breathe, his world shrinking down to the stinging sensation, and then something happens that makes everything inside him stop short for a sweet, blissful moment.

Mike stops counting.

He stopped a while ago, he realizes, could not say how long they have been here any more than how often Harvey has scratched him, and it’s _liberating_ , allowing him to exist purely and entirely in the feeling encapsulating him.

He floats in it, until Harvey wraps one hand around his cock and everything shifts into a sharp focus at once.

“Fuck,” Mike gasps, too far gone to care. Harvey just holds Mike in one hand, giving him nothing but a gentle squeeze while he scrapes the wax off his stomach with the other one.

It’s way too much on all fronts, more than Mike can process by far, and so he gives up trying to comprehend the sensations assaulting him and just feels. Harvey has him right on the edge in no time, and Mike is helpless when his arousal accumulates and eventually overwhelms him.

A blissful wave of release crashes over him, and he surrenders to it gladly. He must be spending himself over Harvey’s hand, but he barely notices, his entire body trembling with the intensity before he slumps and everything goes peacefully, beautifully quiet.

It takes a while for Mike to come down.

Harvey takes his hands off him, wiping them provisionally. He unlocks the handcuffs and brings Mike’s arms down to his side, running his hands over them soothingly. Mike still feels high, but his heart rate slowly returns to normal beneath his caresses.

Eventually Harvey gives him a gentle squeeze.

“I’ll be right back,” he mutters softly, brushing his cheek with the back of his hand. Mike feels like he’s wrapped in cotton, but the touch still gets through to him.

He watches as Harvey retrieves some pads, then gets on the bed with one knee, cleaning him of the fragments he didn’t manage to scrape off. The hair on Mike’s arms rises at the mere memory.

It takes some time to get rid of all the wax, mostly because Harvey is endlessly gentle in removing the splatters, conscious of the state of Mike’s skin. The marks he reveals are red and tender, feeling rawer with every shift of his body. It’s a good thing Mike couldn’t move if he tried.

He slowly returns to reality as the seconds tick by, bringing a bone-deep exhaustion with them, but the bliss lifting him up remains. Neither of them has spoken a word so far, Mike too out of it to talk and Harvey sticking to his silence, and the quiet of the room is peaceful as the minutes bleed into each other. Harvey takes his time cleaning him up, and Mike is perfectly happy just watching him.

Eventually, he clears his throat.

“That was…” He searches for an appropriate word to describe what just transpired and finds nothing. “A lot,” he finishes, trusting Harvey to get it.

“It was,” he agrees, meeting his eyes with a gentle smile. “You were amazing, Mike.”

“Thanks. You too.”

Harvey’s smile grows.

“How are you feeling?” he then inquires, gathering the used pads.

“Beaten. Happy. Like a puddle, I think.”

Harvey chuckles. “The pain?”

“Bearable.”

It’ll get worse once the hormones leave his system, but it’s nothing he won’t be able to handle. He’s had worse.

Harvey nods. “I’m going to get rid of these and grab something from the kitchen, alright? You gonna be okay on your own for a minute?”

“Sure.”

Mike exhales deeply when Harvey leaves the room, giving his body an experimental stretch. He winces, but the ache sitting beneath his skin isn’t so bad, keeping the memories of their scene fresh in his mind.

Harvey isn’t gone for long. Mike's eyes follow him as he returns to the bed, frowning when he holds out his hand.

“What's this?”

“Chocolate,” Harvey explains helpfully.

“Yeah, but why?”

“That was pretty intense, and I don't want you getting sub drop. Can you sit?”

Mike groans, but pushes himself up, sinking into the pillow Harvey has stuffed against the headboard as he accepts the chocolate. It’s dark, and the rich flavor melts on his tongue instantly.

Harvey looks satisfied, taking a piece as well before he gets into bed beside him. They sit in companionable silence while Mike finishes. Accepting the new piece Harvey hands him, he asks, “So chocolate is your cure against sub drop, hm?”

“Are you complaining about it?”

Harvey smirks when he shakes his head.

“Didn’t think so. There's a bunch of stuff you can do, as you’ll know, but since I'm fairly sure that working out and eating clean is out of the question with you...”

“Chocolate it is,” Mike finishes, taking another bite. “It’s so dark, though. I should have known you prefer your sweets… not sweet.”

“The darker the chocolate is, the more it helps with the serotonin,” Harvey notes. “It’s simple chemistry, I’m sure I don’t have to explain it to you.”

Mike rolls his eyes fondly. “I’m just saying. But hey, if it’s gonna keep me from dropping, I’ll take it.”

“You would take it anyway, because you’re happy as long as you’re getting something to eat,” Harvey remarks. He’s not wrong, but Mike takes another bite instead of telling him so.

“So if you’re feeding me chocolate to keep me from getting sub drop,” he muses when he has swallowed, “then why are _you_ having some?”

Harvey raises his eyebrows. “You think that wasn't intense for me too? I don't fancy getting dom drop either, you know.”

“You ever had that?” Mike asks curiously, licking a bit of smudged chocolate from his finger.

“No, and I don't intend to change that.” Harvey’s gaze is fixed on his hand. “You're not getting that.”

“What?”

Harvey rolls his eyes, his fingers closing around his wrist. Mike blinks as he takes his finger into his mouth, grazing it with the tip of his tongue to lick it clean.

“Oh. Thanks,” Mike says weakly when he releases his hand, shaking himself out of his stupor before he takes the last piece of chocolate.

He is weirdly fixated on the wetness he left behind, the bit of him that was just in Harvey’s mouth as he touches it to his own lips, and so he almost startles when Harvey says, “I actually do like it like this.”

Mike looks up. “What?”

“The chocolate. I like it dark. Though I feel like this is the limit. Seventy percent cocoa is fine, but anything more is where it gets uncomfortable. It’s too much.”

“I would have taken you for someone who says that there’s no such thing as too much.” Mike sucks the tip of his finger clean, tilting his head. “So you’re more of a seventy percent kinda guy now? Not always a hundred and ten percent after all?”

Harvey huffs, the smile playing on his lips barely concealed. “You know damn well I am when it comes to it. Sometimes seventy percent is the better option though, because going all the way just means getting somewhere you didn’t actually want to get.”

“Like how chocolate with a hundred percent cocoa wouldn’t be chocolate anymore?”

“Exactly.”

“Huh.”

Noticing that he never stopped licking his finger, Mike drops his hand. His head still feels like it’s wrapped in cotton and he’s not sure what exactly they are talking about, but he’s fairly certain it’s not chocolate anymore.

“Isn’t that also exciting, though?” he asks, narrowing his eyes in contemplation. “I mean, ditching the chocolate metaphor, if you get somewhere you didn’t plan on going it might still end up being a great place.”

He certainly never planned on ending up at one of New York’s best law firms, or in Harvey’s bedroom every Friday night, but he can’t say that he regrets either.

“Of course it is,” Harvey agrees. “And you know that most of the time I’m happy to take that risk and see what happens. In some instances it might backfire, though. Depending on what’s on the line, you have to decide if that’s a gamble you want to take.”

Mike hums thoughtfully. Harvey finishes his chocolate before he wipes his hands.

“How are you feeling now?”

“Still fine. Bit less like a puddle, so that’s nice.”

“Good. Then let’s get you wrapped up, I don’t want you getting cold.”

Mike has no complaints about that. He lets Harvey pull the blanket around him before he opens his arms, allowing him to snuggle into them. Mike makes himself comfortable, still thinking about their conversation as the calm takes over.

They have almost drifted off when he mutters, “I wouldn’t mind, you know.”

“Hm?”

“Going the last thirty percent with you.”

His inhibitions are still down, it seems, but he doesn’t care. He knows that this is a safe space. He won’t be mocked or judged for anything he says in here.

Harvey doesn’t reply, but his arms tighten around him and there’s a short pressure on his head that leaves him smiling. To Mike, that’s answer enough.

*

Sadly, the peace and tranquility Mike experiences in the aftermath of their scenes doesn’t last. As soon as he steps out of Harvey’s apartment the next day, everything returns to him in a rush.

He has long accepted that his irrational feelings aren’t just going away, but by now they seem to have become a deeply ingrained part of his days, and the constant struggle of trying to deal with them is anything but fun.

Mike wakes up every morning feeling more tired than the night before. Being at the office is hell. He snaps at a paralegal, snaps at one of the associates, nearly snaps at Harvey more times than he can count, and just so manages to stop himself from picking a fight with Louis that he knows wouldn’t end well for him. It puts him on edge, the short fuse and constant headache seeming to linger at the back of his head at all times, but if it’s the price he has to pay for his Friday nights, then there’s nothing to do but pay it.

Their scenes may very well be the only thing keeping him sane. The irony of that, considering they are what triggered this whole thing in the first place, is not lost on him. It’s just that he can never switch his mind off and exist in the present moment the way he does when Harvey makes him do it. It’s a bittersweet mix of peace and agitation, the constant battle between the two slowly wearing him out.

And amidst all that, there’s the ever-growing desire to prove himself to Harvey, to make sure that he never stops to consider if he wouldn’t be better off swapping Mike for somebody else.

That desire is making him do things. It makes him jump at whatever Harvey wants to try readily, even propose things he never considered before. It makes him grow _bold_.

Mike has never had any interest in cock cages or rings, but he doesn’t have to think twice when Harvey asks about them. The look of surprise on his face when he agrees immediately is worth the slight apprehension rising in him when Harvey takes them out for the first time. He is surprised to find that he doesn’t actually hate them and even learns to enjoy the possibilities they offer.

They don’t stop there, though.

Mike has cried during a scene before, has no qualms about doing so in the safety of Harvey’s bedroom, and it’s a good thing he doesn’t because often times, there is no other way to process the pain. Not when Harvey takes him to his absolute limit and then one step further. Not when Mike asks him to, time after time after time in hopes of finding that blissful bit of tranquility he keeps chasing.

It’s never too much, never more than Mike can actually handle, but it scrapes the surface of _this far and no further_ more than once.

It’s to Harvey’s credit that he always stops right before he breaches that final line, especially when Mike himself loses sight of it in the heat of the moment.

The blindfold appears more and more often, leaving Mike a little more addicted to the feeling of being entirely in Harvey’s hands each time. The best thing, he finds, is when Harvey gets the rope and uses it on him while Mike can’t see what he’s doing, only feels the scraping on his skin while he ties him up as the whim takes him.

He usually has a plan though, and a very specific one at that. The memories of that first time still spark a wave of desire in Mike, and so he agrees readily when Harvey asks if he’s up for something more complicated.

This time he includes his legs, which is a thrill in itself, considering how close he is to Mike’s groin the entire time, but it doesn’t stay at that for long. The time after he ties Mike up completely until he can’t move a muscle, which paradoxically leaves him feeling like he’s floating, flying somewhere high above instead of being tied down on Harvey’s bed.

Whether Mike gets to watch the process, sees the final result, or only ever feels the pattern Harvey wove around him, those scenes always remain special to him. It’s like for one lingering moment, when Harvey ties the final knot and he is entirely at his mercy, everything is in perfect order before he cuts the rope again and all traces of it are gone as soon as the imprints disappear from Mike’s skin. He hates that he gets nothing to remember them by, that there is no way for him to physically hold on to them. There is no proof that they ever happened at all.

Harvey never takes pictures, and Mike knows why, understands that they could cause more trouble than they are worth, but he still wishes there was something for him to keep other than his memories. They’re just not enough to stop him from spiraling, to make him halt and reconsider diving headfirst into whatever Harvey proposes.

He knows he’s tumbling on the edge of something dangerous, always one misstep away from going too far, but Mike has it under control. Mostly.

Until _Harvey_ missteps, shaking him down to his core.

Kneeling on the bedroom floor, Mike is waiting for him to announce what they’ll be doing tonight. His back burns from his discipline, the cane having left pulsating red streaks, and Mike allows the feeling to encapsulate him, awaiting further instructions impatiently.

They never come.

“I'm sorry,” Harvey says instead.

Mike’s head snaps up. When he doesn’t go on, he asks, “For what, Sir?”

Harvey doesn't rebuke him for speaking.

“I breached the contract today.”

Mike's eyes grow wide. Before he can blurt something out and earn himself more strokes, Harvey explains, “I touched you. At the office. I touched you there like I touch you in here.”

Oh.

Mike swallows. He remembers it with perfect clarity, how it felt as Harvey’s hand slid into his hair, his tight and familiar grip sending shocks of arousal through him. How it brought everything to a brief halt before the world started turning again as if nothing had happened.

He hadn’t expected the touch, hadn’t thought anything of it when Harvey had stood right behind his chair, his body blocking the view into his office. He doesn’t think Harvey had, either. He saw it in his face afterwards, the brief surprise flashing across his features before he dropped his hand, stepping back like he hadn’t just shaken Mike’s entire world.

The thing about their arrangement is that it was always entirely separate from their regular lives. While the jealousy follows Mike into the office, it has always been a neutral space otherwise, somewhere he could at least try to stop thinking about it. During the day, their scenes have always been this secret, hidden part of his life that he only carried within him.

Until Harvey touched him and suddenly it was out there, in the daylight, staring Mike right in the face until he had to force himself to get back to work and pretend he wasn’t still thinking about it.

They didn’t talk about it then, and Mike wasn’t sure if they ever would, but now here they are, and Harvey is telling him that he’s _sorry_ , and he has no idea what to do with it.

It freaks him out a little, to be in the position he’s in and have Harvey apologizing to him. Mike knows it’s not true, but he still thought of Harvey as his dom as somewhat unerring. Infallible. Seeing this side of him in here is… unsettling.

“We agreed that this would stay out of the office, and I didn't honor that agreement. So to make up for that, I will grant you a reward.”

Mike frowns. Before he can stop to think, he blurts out, “I don’t want it.”

“Excuse me?”

“I don't… want a reward, Sir. Not when I haven't done anything to earn it.”

Harvey gives him a look he can't quite interpret, but before he can make a guess, he says, “I’m not doing this out of the goodness of my heart, Mike. If I didn’t feel like you earned it, I would have thought of something else. You’re allowed to say yes to this.”

“I know. I understand that, Sir. But… I’d rather not, if I may. It just doesn’t feel right.”

Harvey is silent.

“You're so good for me,” he finally murmurs, and Mike's eyes fall shut when he runs his hand through his hair, a light touch that makes him shiver. “Such a good boy. What have I done to deserve you?”

Mike doesn't know what to say to that, and so he just swallows, looking up at Harvey quietly.

“This isn't a test,” Harvey explains gently. “I'm offering you something, and I want you to take it. You can ask for anything you want.”

_Anything?_ Mike wants to ask bitterly, but he keeps his mouth shut. What does he want? To stop feeling the way he does. To enjoy what they have without the crippling fear of losing it following him everywhere. For this to go on forever and never stop until he can crawl inside the feeling Harvey gives him and live in it till his last day.

But Harvey can't give him that, and Mike doesn't want to ask for anything else. All he wants, really, is for Harvey to keep looking at him like this.

“I just want to please you, Sir. I just want to be good for you.”

Harvey's expression softens. “Oh, I know, baby. You are. You’re so good for me.”

Mike's eyes fall shut when Harvey scratches his scalp slightly.

“How about you save it then? Think about it, and if you come up with something after all, you let me know.”

“Okay, Sir,” Mike agrees readily. He doesn’t actually think he’s going to, but if it makes Harvey happy, he’s sure as hell not going to deny him.

Harvey nods. “Regardless of that matter,” he then says, running his fingers along Mike’s jaw, “I have something planned for today that you’re going to be happy about.”

Mike perks up, trying to read from Harvey’s expression what he is talking about. Is he going to get spanked? Will he get to bring himself off, or Harvey? Is he going to be tied up again?

Before his brain can sort through the dozens of images he comes up with, Harvey elaborates, “I’m going to get the riding crop now, and then I’m going to strike you and get you off at the same time. You can come whenever you want. Just keep in mind that the longer it takes, the more strokes you’re getting.”

Mike swallows. “Understood, Sir.”

“Stand up.”

Mike gets to his feet. Harvey retrieves the riding crop, resting it on his shoulder as he turns back to Mike. He doesn’t know if it’s the anticipation of knowing what’s going to happen, but something about the sight is so unbearably hot that Mike’s head starts swimming.

“You know what I expect of you,” Harvey says. Mike blinks, trying to get his brain to cooperate.

“I’m supposed to count the strokes. I’m supposed to stay as still as possible. If I need to, I use my safeword or the color system to let you know it’s too much.”

“Very good,” Harvey praises him, and without further ado he reaches out and takes Mike’s cock in his hand.

It costs Mike every ounce of effort he can muster to stay still at the touch. Harvey’s lips curl in amusement, and Mike suppresses a groan, because fuck it, Harvey knows exactly what he’s doing and he’s clearly enjoying it.

Well, they wouldn’t be here if he didn’t get something out of Mike’s suffering.

The sharp sting of the first stroke catches him off guard. The air escapes his lungs in a rush as he blinks at Harvey, who somehow managed to distract him so much with the twist of his wrist that he didn’t see the riding crop coming. His thigh is ablaze with pain before the strike really registers, and Harvey stops his movements, lifting an eyebrow.

“One,” Mike finally croaks, clearing his throat. “One, Sir.”

Satisfied, Harvey resumes his touches, and Mike exhales slowly to clear his head.

It’s a little unfamiliar at first, standing in the middle of the room instead of being on his knees or the bed, but Mike doesn’t get much time to ponder the change before the second stroke comes. He tries to pay more attention this time, but it’s hard with the way Harvey rubs him so expertly.

The numbers fall from his lips haltingly at first, then easier, until Mike slips into an almost meditative rhythm of receiving the pain and announcing it. The sharp stings feed his arousal until he can barely think.

He said this had nothing to do with what happened at the office earlier, but it still feels like Harvey is rewarding him – he's using the riding crop, after all, which he knows is Mike's favorite, and there is something in each of his strikes that almost feels like a caress, a whisper of affection that Mike can't pinpoint but feels as acutely as a physical sensation.

After a while Mike picks up on a certain regularity to the strikes that allows him to anticipate them. Harvey usually varies his rhythm, so it must be for his benefit. It lets Mike prepare for each one, differing only in their intensity and the place they land.

It takes Mike nineteen strikes to come, and while he objectively knows that not much time has passed, it feels like he held himself back to the last possible moment. Harvey strokes him through his climax as he spends himself, lowering the riding crop in favor of steadying Mike, whose body seems to think that staying upright is the least of its problems right now.

“That’s it. Beautiful,” Harvey murmurs, the words like balm on Mike’s battered skin. He thinks the same thing, his hazy gaze fixed on Harvey’s hand covered in his come. He does his best to save the image to memory in all its details while most of him is still caught up in the rush of hormones flooding his body.

His shoulders slump when the tingling waves finally ease off and Harvey takes his hand away. Mike was getting a little oversensitive, but he still mourns the loss of contact. He tries to focus on the heavy saturation spreading in his limbs instead.

It leaves him light and satisfied, and he’d be perfectly happy to just lie down and close his eyes now, but Harvey has other plans for him.

“On your knees,” he instructs, reminding Mike that the scene is far from over.

When Mike is at his feet, he asks, “Do you know why I touched you at the office earlier?”

“No, Sir.”

“Because you’re mine.”

Mike’s breath hitches.

Harvey gives him a thoughtful look. “I wanted to remind myself, and you, that you’re mine.” He pauses. “Did you mind that? The truth.”

Mike has to swallow twice before he can speak. “No, Sir.”

“Do you like it? Belonging to me?”

“I do.” _More than I can tell you._

Harvey hums. “It was still wrong, touching you like that out there. That doesn’t change why I did it, though. The sentiment remains.”

He steps in, lifting Mike’s chin with his finger. It’s more a caress than an order, but Mike still meets his eyes dutifully.

“Because of that, I got us something new. I know you like it when I mark you, and you may have noticed that I don’t exactly mind either.”

The corner of his mouth lifts. He turns to the drawer, returning with an implement Mike has never seen before.

“Do you know what this is?”

“A paddle, Sir?”

“It’s an impression paddle,” Harvey corrects.

Mike’s eyes widen. He knows about those, though the ones he has seen so far all had a word written across it. _Slut. Baby. Love_. He eyes Harvey’s more closely. There aren’t any letters on it, but he can make out a pattern.

“I will use this on you so that the imprints last for days. Because you’re mine, and I want you to remember that every time you see the marks I left on you.”

There it is again, that damn irony that seems to mock Mike all the time. He just nods, because really, he won’t have any trouble following those orders.

“This will be the last part of today’s scene. You’ll only get ten strikes, but they will all be in one spot. Do you think you can take that?”

“I do, Sir.”

“That’s my boy. Get on the bed for me, on your stomach.”

Mike’s heart pumps in his chest as he gets into position, listening to Harvey’s steps. Adrenaline is already flooding him at the mere prospect of being marked like this, but then the first strike lands, hot pain blooming on his cheek instantly, and Mike is wide awake.

“One,” he sighs, inhaling sharply when the second one lands at once.

Like he announced before, Harvey focuses on one spot only, and without the distribution of the pain, the intensity quickly mounts until it takes up all the space in Mike’s head.

He counts through the burn, groaning shamelessly in an attempt to relieve the ache somehow. By the time he has completed his set, Mike’s ass feels like someone set it on fire.

“There we are.” Harvey traces his skin. “Gorgeous.”

Mike cranes his head, trying to catch a glimpse of his behind. He can barely see it, but he imagines he _feels_ the marks Harvey left on him, and the fact that they will stay there for a while makes his cheeks burn. He feels warm all over, though the concentrated heat on his bum sticks out, the pain slowly ebbing away into a warm glow he can breathe through easily.

“Kneel for me,” Harvey murmurs. Mike rolls over, his feet carrying him to the middle of the room automatically. He sinks down, leaning in to kiss the paddle when Harvey holds it out.

“Thank you for my discipline, Sir. Thank you for offering me a reward. Thank you for marking me.”

“You’re welcome. I want you to think about the reward, alright? If there’s anything you want, you let me know.”

Mike nods dutifully.

“Thank you, too.”

Mike grips his hand, letting himself be pulled up.

“Steady,” Harvey murmurs, smiling when he catches his eyes. “Wait here. I’ll get the lotion.”

Asking him to turn around when he has grabbed the bottle, he puts a hand on Mike’s hip to support him. The lotion is blissfully cool on his burning skin, the light pressure of Harvey’s touch barely enough to hurt. The hair on Mike’s arms rises.

“It looks better than I expected,” Harvey says, patting his hip gently when he’s done. Mike turns back around. “It’s a shame you’re not going to see much of it.”

Oh, Mike is going to see enough of it, he’ll make sure of that. “I’ll pay attention to it,” he assures Harvey, who nods in satisfaction. Grabbing the blanket, he motions Mike to get on the bed, and once he has him all wrapped up, he lies down beside him.

“Are you feeling alright?” he asks, running a hand down his arm.

“I’m great. A bit cold, maybe,” Mike lies. “Could you, you know…”

“Of course,” Harvey says immediately, shifting on the mattress to get closer to Mike until he is pressed to his body from head to toe. His hands keep moving over his limbs, and the warmth spreading in him as a result is so good that he doesn’t feel guilty about lying in the slightest.

For once, Mike doesn’t have to fear that he’s about to come apart at the seams. Harvey may be the glue holding him together, and it may only last for a little while, but he’s going to savor every second of it he can get.

He still aches, but Harvey’s warmth comforts him until it drowns out everything else. The drowsiness from earlier returns, but the absence of the gaping hole in his stomach is too liberating. Mike doesn’t want to fall asleep yet. He wants to absorb the peace until it’s in his bones, wants to obtain this equilibrium just a little longer.

Harvey’s breathing is calm and even behind him, tickling his ear. He closes his eyes.

“It's like the sea,” he says into the silence.

“Hm?”

“When I'm with you like this. When we're together, it's like... when you're standing in the sea and you see a wave coming towards you. And it fills you with apprehension, but also a bit of excitement, right? And you think it might drown you but you don't move away. You just wait for it. And then the water crashes over you and it's a bit like you can't breathe but it _doesn't_ drown you, it just surrounds you. And yes, the salt burns, but you let it. You want it to. Because it washes you clean. That's what it's like, doing this with you.”

Harvey, who has listened to his words quietly, shifts behind him.

“Oh, my sweet boy,” he murmurs, pulling him closer. His arms around him tighten, full of gentleness and affection. “I love seeing you struggle against the waves. I love when you have to fight. But I’d never, ever let you drown. You’ll always be safe with me.”

“I know,” Mike whispers, his throat closing up. He rolls over, burying his face in Harvey’s chest as he inhales deeply. “I know.”

He does.

And the knowledge leaves him aching in a way that has nothing to do with the physical pain. It’s a weight he is unable to put into words, that he carries around with him long after their scene, long after the peace has seeped out of his bones, leaving him cold and empty.

Mike tries his hardest to distract himself from the feeling, diving headfirst into whatever opportunity presents itself. Work is a good diversion. Things get rather crazy halfway through the following week, and he tackles the new case with enthusiasm, hoping it will keep him busy enough to forget about the hollowness spreading in him.

It doesn’t.

Turns out that staying at the office for long hours every day doesn’t exactly make him feel less removed from everyone around him, like an outsider looking in on the rest of the world through an impenetrable window.

Sitting by himself in the deserted library night after night, Mike feels more isolated than ever. The worst part is that even if there was someone here with him, he couldn’t talk to them about what’s bothering him. He couldn’t talk about that to anyone.

Not that he’d even know where to start.

Rachel notices that something’s up. He can tell by the looks she gives him, the little frown on her forehead when she thinks he isn’t paying attention. She doesn’t ask for a long time, but Mike knows she’s going to.

When she does, he puts on his best fake smile and assures her that he’s fine, brushing her off with practiced words. He tries to quash the guilt it leaves him with and doesn’t entirely succeed.

He is careful not to let Harvey see what’s going on with him, even though a spiteful, childish part of him _wants_ to. He doesn’t give in to it, knowing that there is no way for him to explain this when he can’t make sense of it himself. And with that out of the question, there is absolutely no one in the world he could possibly talk to.

In an attempt to fight his isolation, Mike does the only thing he can think of. He focuses on Harvey rather than himself, on their scenes, drawn to what they offer like a moth to the flame until they become his anchor, the only thing still holding him in place.

And maybe it’s just because he’s so focused on them, but the scenes seem to get more intense all the time. Mike barely knows how to bear the onslaught of sensations he’s met with week after week. When Harvey strikes him it's like a caress, and when he actually caresses him, it's more than Mike knows how to process.

At least he isn’t the only one who’s this affected, so he knows it’s not just in his mind. Harvey bringing him chocolate becomes a regular thing to the point where he starts to just keep it in the bedroom.

“Planned ahead, did you?” Mike asks the first time he watches him retrieve the bar from the nightstand.

“I like to be prepared,” Harvey says, removing the wrapping. “It’s only smart to keep it right here instead of having to get up after every scene, since we’re clearly not taking things slower any time soon.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Mike mutters, accepting the piece Harvey gives him. “Do you have, like, a whole secret stash of these hidden here somewhere?”

“It wouldn’t be secret if I told you, would it?”

Harvey sinks back into the pillows next to him, nodding towards his hand. “Eat.”

Mike glances at him, lifting a brow. “Is that an order, Sir?”

Harvey rolls his eyes. “Don’t think I can’t make it one.”

Mike hums. “What if I refuse?”

“Then I’m just going to have to feed you.”

“Yeah, right.”

Mike’s mouth falls open when Harvey takes the piece out of his hand, placing it between his lips before he can say as much as a word. Having no other choice, Mike accepts it, narrowing his eyes as he chews.

“You’re crazy,” he informs him when he has swallowed.

“Shut up and eat your chocolate,” Harvey tells him, clearly unbothered.

Mike licks his lips. “Make me.”

Sliding his own piece into his mouth, Harvey glances at him. “Really? This is how you wanna play?”

His eyes sparkle with amusement, and Mike, the afterglow of their scene leaving him in a good enough mood to be playful, just gives him a challenging look.

“Fine. Open up.”

Mike keeps his mouth firmly closed as he smiles.

Harvey sighs. He takes the chocolate, nudging Mike’s lips. When he still doesn’t move, he presses further until they give way and he unceremoniously pushes the piece inside.

Mike stares at the fingers disappearing in his mouth along with it, then up at Harvey.

“You wanted me to make you,” he points out. Mike rolls his eyes, trying to pretend he isn’t as turned on as he feels. If he weren’t so wrung out from their scene, his body would respond to the arousal welling up in him instantly.

Harvey must be into this too, or he wouldn’t play along so readily. His thumb slips out of his mouth, but before he can withdraw his index finger too, Mike wraps his lips around it and starts sucking. The tip tastes sweet, and he swirls his tongue around it before he gives it a gentle bite.

His teeth barely graze the skin, but Harvey’s lips part nevertheless, a subconscious reaction that gets Mike’s heart pounding. Harvey’s eyes are fixed on his mouth as he withdraws, dragging his fingertip across his bottom lip.

“You’re a menace,” he remarks, but it sounds like approval to him.

_You’re one to talk,_ Mike thinks. He licks over the wet trail Harvey left behind, swallowing until only the aftertaste of the chocolate lingers on his tongue.

“More,” he asks. Harvey catches his eyes, his lips curving upwards.

“Lippy,” he mutters, breaking off another piece. “Open up.”

“Hmm. No.”

Harvey slides down the headboard to hover near his lips. Mike’s breath hitches at the sudden proximity.

“Mike,” he murmurs, “open up.”

Mike shakes his head. Harvey regards him, smiling as he places the piece between his own lips.

A challenging look comes into his eyes when Mike raises his brows. Cupping his jaw to hold him in place, he leans in and nudges Mike’s lips apart with the chocolate until he yields, his mouth stopping before Mike’s by a hairsbreadth.

Part of Mike’s brain is aware that he’s failing to draw breath, but all that registers is how close Harvey is and how little space is keeping their lips from actually meeting.

The chocolate is sweet where it mingles with his saliva. Harvey’s breath is warm on his face. Mike is frozen in place, his heart beating out of his chest as he is unable to do anything but stare as Harvey gently pushes the piece of chocolate between his lips until Mike has taken it. He draws back only enough to speak, never leaving his orbit.

“Close your mouth,” he murmurs, his breath ghosting over his cheek. Mike closes his mouth. Harvey looks satisfied, the corner of his lips lifting as he gazes at him.

The chocolate melts on Mike’s tongue, but he barely notices, his attention entirely on the view before him.

“Go on,” Harvey encourages him gently. “Eat it.”

He is still so close, still taking up all the space in Mike’s head. His scent fills his nose with every breath he draws, intoxicating enough to leave him dizzy.

Mike obediently starts sucking on the chocolate, overly aware of Harvey watching him. He couldn’t tear his eyes from him if he tried. He’s swaying, subconsciously trying to get closer, and he knows Harvey picks up on it. His breath catches when he turns his head the slightest bit, an unreadable expression in his eyes before he suddenly leans in and closes the last bit of distance between them.

From one moment to the next his lips are touching Mike’s, and just like that, they are kissing. It’s gentle, the pressure neither demanding nor shy, just there. It’s barely a kiss at all.

It shatters Mike into a thousand pieces.

The first breath he draws is desperate, his brain screaming for oxygen after cutting off the supply for too long. His lips move against Harvey’s entirely without his doing, returning the pressure of his caress like a gentle greeting.

Harvey sighs quietly against him. He tilts his head as he raises his hand, touching just below his jaw. And then he goes all in, and Mike’s lips part on their own volition as all he can do is kiss back and absorb the taste of Harvey’s mouth.

He forgets about the chocolate, forgets what they were doing or how they ended up like this. His focus shrinks down to the point where their lips are touching, to the feeling of Harvey moving against him, his body leaning into his like a puzzle piece slotting into place.

He can taste the chocolate on Harvey’s lips, feels his tongue against his, and the sparks flaring up in his stomach steal all the air out of his lungs.

He makes some kind of sound that would be embarrassing if Harvey didn’t respond to it right away, groaning as he grips Mike’s face tighter and presses into him, biting at his lip before he licks over the ache to soothe it.

Mike just so manages to hold back a whimper. This is quickly turning into the hottest kiss he has ever had in his life, and he is entirely defenseless in the face of it.

His breathing grows ragged, but Harvey is panting too, and so he forgets about pretending that this isn’t affecting him and just clings to the kiss for as long as he can.

It’s impossible to tell how much time has passed when it eventually ends.

Harvey stays in his sphere once they break apart, licking his lips as he gazes at him. Mike can’t believe he did that, that he’s the one responsible for that look on Harvey’s face and his chest heaving like that. He is too exhausted, too caught up in the rush of what just happened to process any of this, so he just lies there, catching his breath as they look at each other.

Harvey’s eyes glint when he lifts an eyebrow. “Well? Are you going to be amenable now?”

Mike nods mutely.

He smiles. “Then take the last piece like a good boy.”

Mike accepts it without complaint, feels the brush of it against his tingling lips before he eats it.

Harvey cups his jaw, his finger pressing behind his ear right where he was holding him in place a minute ago. “That’s my boy.”

It’s a good thing Mike is lying down, because he’s fairly sure his knees would have given out otherwise.

Harvey puts the chocolate away, then lies down to pull him closer. His arms wrap around him, and Mike lets himself be cuddled in a daze, feeling a bit like he’s watching his sanity slip away piece by piece. The adrenaline is still running through his system. Right now he’s flying, but he knows it’s only a matter of time before he hits the ground. The kiss feels more significant than it probably was, like the threshold to a place of complete abandon that he just crossed without knowing if there’s a way back.

He’s hanging on for now, but it’s by a thin goddamn thread.

Sooner or later, it’s going to break.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heed the tags, proceed with caution...

Harvey glances up at the knock on the door. It’s late, and he’s not expecting anyone, but that’s never stopped his friends from showing up at his place unannounced. There’s a number of people that the doorman just lets up by now, but somehow he still knows who it is before he opens the door.

“Mike? What-”

The rest of the question gets stuck in his throat at the sight of Mike's expression. He looks tired beyond his years, like he hasn't slept in days. His face is pale, almost ashen, and his eyes, when they meet his, are so pleading and almost feral that anything Harvey might have asked instantly dissolves.

“Get in here,” is all he says as the reflex to help Mike takes over, stepping aside to let him in.

He stops in the middle of the living room, appearing lost and smaller than Harvey has ever seen him. He swallows, looking Mike over in search of a clue as to what's wrong.

“Have a seat. Do you want a drink?”

Mike shakes his head but sits down, and Harvey does the same, waiting for him to explain what the hell happened.

When he shows no signs of starting to speak any time soon, instead kneading his hands so hard that it makes even Harvey wince, he breaks the silence.

“Mike. What's going on? Talk to me.”

Mike’s eyes snap up, like he forgot that he was even there. A shuddering breath escapes him.

It worries Harvey to no end.

He has seen Mike in a state several times, but never like this. He seemed fine after their last scene, they even messed about, and it’s been long enough since then that Harvey is almost sure that what he’s looking at isn’t sub drop.

What else could it be?

He scrutinizes him closely, but there is nothing indicating what’s wrong with him, and he still hasn’t started talking. Harvey is getting more anxious the less Mike tells him, and when he keeps sticking to the foreboding silence, a sickening suspicion starts spreading in his stomach.

“Did something happen?”

A dozen different scenarios flash through his mind, one worse than the other, and he grits his teeth, exhaling deeply when Mike shakes his head.

“No, I just-“ He lets out a frustrated breath, the look on his face one of such deep contempt that it startles him. “I just need to get out of my head. I don’t know what- I can’t be in there anymore. It’s too much, Harvey. I’ve tried everything. I can’t turn it _off._ ”

Harvey searches his face, but there are no signs that what he’s saying isn’t the truth, so he nods. He is still way out of his depth, but at least now he knows that he won't have to kill anyone. He just has to take care of Mike. And if there’s one thing he knows how to do, it’s that. So he decides to put the reasons for Mike’s state on the back burner and focuses on what he can do to fix it instead.

“Alright. What do you need? Do you need a scene?”

“I don't know. I don’t know what- I have no idea. I’m sorry, I’m- Maybe I shouldn’t have-”

“Mike. Look at me.”

Harvey waits until his eyes find his, the expression in them desperate and imploring. It tears at his heartstrings to see him like this, and it’s that sight that settles it for him. “Let me take care of you. That's an order.”

Mike looks at him, his eyes moving rapidly across his face, and Harvey doesn't know what he finds there that finally makes him agree with a jerky nod.

“Okay.”

“Okay what?” Harvey asks gently, and something in Mike’s features relaxes as he whispers, “Okay, Sir.”

Harvey exhales quietly.

“Take off your shoes. Make yourself comfortable.”

He uses the time Mike takes to follow his instructions to consider his next steps. He has a vague idea, but he’s still too unclear on what’s wrong with Mike to know where this will go. He’s just going to have to make do and let his instincts guide him.

Mike gives him a hesitant look. “Should I lie down, Sir?”

“Whatever feels right.”

Mike glances at the space on the sofa, then bites his lip. Without further hesitation, he gets up and sinks to his knees in the middle of the room. For some reason, the sight has Harvey swallowing.

He steps in front of Mike, sitting down as well with his legs crossed.

“Do you trust me? This isn’t going to work if you don’t.”

Mike meets his eyes, a complicated mix of vulnerability, defeat, and faith passing over his face. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t, Sir.”

“Good. Remember that when you get overwhelmed, alright? I’m here. I’m going to take care of you. It’s alright.”

Mike nods. Harvey lets his eyes move over his body, the tight set of his shoulders, his hands clenched into fists.

“You’re going to be in this position for a while. If you get uncomfortable, you can move around. Just find something that works for you.”

“Alright.”

Harvey takes a deep breath, making sure that his words are low and calm. “Focus on me. Focus on my voice.”

He takes Mike’s hands and opens them, pressing his thumbs into his palms. The touch is gentle, firm without being demanding. Mike’s brow is knitted, confusion and curiosity clear on his face, but he is watching him carefully, his attention undivided.

“Look into my eyes. That’s it. Just focus on me. Focus on me. Focus on me…”

He holds Mike’s gaze, keeping his expression open and relaxed, a constant that Mike can hold on to if he needs it. He repeats the words until they lose all meaning, the steady mantra flowing from his lips without his conscious doing. He goes on until Mike’s shoulders drop and he leans in slightly, drawn to the voice guiding him. His breath goes slower now, his chest heaving more evenly.

Harvey exhales in relief. He keeps going for a while before the words ebb away slowly. He lets the silence unfold between them, then asks, “What are you feeling?”

Mike shifts, his forehead creasing.

“You don't have to tell me if you can't put it into words,” Harvey murmurs. “I just want you to pay attention to it. Be aware of it.”

It’s hard for him to navigate this when he doesn’t know what’s going on inside Mike, but it’s obvious that he’s troubled, and so Harvey focuses on getting him to calm down before anything else. Fight the symptoms first, look for the cause later.

“Take a deep breath now.”

Mike does.

“Hold it,” Harvey instructs quietly.

He counts in his head, letting a few seconds pass before he says, “And release.”

Mike’s chest falls.

“Again. Inhale with me.”

He talks him through it until the nervous energy Mike radiates seeps out of him, until he no longer looks like he’s about to burst out of his own skin.

Once he has picked up on the rhythm, barely needing the guidance of his voice to keep it going anymore, Harvey brushes his thumbs across his palms.

“Keep breathing. I want you to hold my hands now.”

Mike gingerly grabs his hands. Harvey tightens his hold on them encouragingly, prompting him to do the same.

“When you inhale, squeeze them as tight as you can. Use your whole arm. Every muscle. Keep it up while you hold your breath.”

Though Mike looks confused by his instructions, he follows them without hesitation. Harvey is glad to see the shift of his focus from his inner state to what he’s telling him. He is acting on impulse here, but so far it seems to work. Mike is willing to follow his lead, and Harvey lets the signs he gives him guide him. He’s not sure where they will end up yet, but wherever this goes, it’ll be the result of a steady give and take, of them feeding off each other, passing signals back and forth that will take them somewhere neither of them could have reached on their own.

Harvey feels the pressure of Mike’s hands against his, counting in his head before he tells him, “And release. Relax your arms as you exhale. Try to really feel the tension leaving your muscles, every one of them.”

Mike slumps, a faraway look coming into his eyes that reminds Harvey of the one he gets during their scenes sometimes, when he tries to process what’s happening, to compartmentalize the pain or channel it into something pleasurable. It’s this intense focus on something that seems to be outside of him, or so deep within that Harvey can only guess at it. It’s mesmerizing to watch.

“How does it feel?”

Mike exhales slowly. “Light.”

Harvey doesn’t fight his smile. “Let’s do it again. Deep breath, hold on tightly.”

He repeats the cycle until Mike’s eyes have grown glassy and unfocused. He responds with his body rather than his brain now, the repeated movements coming to him naturally. His grip is tight on Harvey’s hands, but he barely notices, too busy paying attention to the signs Mike is giving him.

“There we go,” he finally says, allowing him a second to refocus on his words. “How was that?”

Mike blinks a few times. “It was good, Sir. I feel… more at ease. Like you caught me.”

His voice is rough, the words laced with something like surprise, a bit of awe, perhaps.

“Good. You’re doing so well,” Harvey murmurs automatically, the response too ingrained in him to hold back now, never mind the unclear nature of what they are doing here.

It can barely be considered a scene, not by their standards, but it's there in the undertones, like a safety net Mike can fall back on when he needs guidance. And Harvey too, if he is honest. This is uncharted territory for both of them, and while his strategy seems to work, it’s still good to have that security. He wants to do right by Mike, at all costs. Whatever is going on with him, this is not the time to mess around.

“I want you to keep breathing like I showed you for a while. When you're ready, you can get up. Take your time.”

Mike nods, inhaling deeply as he focuses on the rhythm. His eyes fall shut for a few breaths before he exhales slowly, letting go of Harvey’s hands to get to his feet.

Harvey gets up too, supporting Mike by his elbows when he blinks hazily.

“Are you feeling alright?”

At Mike's nod, Harvey smiles. “Good. Come with me.”

He turns around, hearing Mike’s steps following. Harvey takes the time to clear his head, surprised by how affected he is by all this as well.

This is not only different from their usual scenes, it also feels like so much more somehow. The connection between Mike and him isn’t just undeniable, it’s alive and pulsating.

Harvey doesn’t know what they are doing here. He never reached this stage with any of his other subs, and while he cared a great deal for them, he never had the desire to. But with Mike, it just feels right to do this. To be whatever he is for him right now.

He waits until Mike has stepped into the bedroom, giving him an expectant look. Harvey closes the door behind them.

“Take off your shirt for me.”

Mike's fingers fly to his buttons without hesitation. Harvey covers the bed with a sheet while he lets him undress.

“Lie down,” he instructs. “On your stomach.”

He grabs a bottle of warming massage oil and a candle, lighting the wick before he gets on the bed as well.

He prefers to do this after a shower to ensure maximal comfort, but there is no way in hell he’s sending Mike into the bathroom on his own now, and showering together is bound to agitate him even more instead of calming him down. This will have to do.

“If our position makes you uncomfortable in any way, you let me know.”

Mike nods.

“What’s your safeword?”

“Veritas, Sir,” Mike murmurs, gazing at him through hooded eyes.

Harvey nods, swinging his leg over Mike’s body before he settles on his hips, giving him a moment to adjust.

“Alright?”

Mike’s shoulders have tensed, but he nods. “More than alright, Sir.”

Arousal rather than discomfort, then.

“Close your eyes. I’m going to massage you now. There will be different sensations, but nothing too extreme. You don’t have to worry about anything, I’m taking care of you. Just focus on the way it feels, nothing else.”

Mike obediently closes his eyes. Harvey brushes his arm to convey his approval before he grabs the oil from the nightstand. He squeezes a few drops onto his back, then puts the bottle aside and touches his shoulders.

Applying gentle pressure, he rubs the oil into his skin in circles. It warms beneath his hands quickly, and he can tell by the change in Mike’s breathing that he notices too. The lavender scent is unfolding around them, filling the air slowly.

The silence is peaceful, completing the atmosphere that has Harvey hesitating to shift as much as a muscle, lest he disturb the fragile tranquility between them. He listens to Mike’s breathing, deep and even, and smiles when he recognizes the rhythm he set earlier.

Time seems to slow down in the quiet room, or at least pass differently, moving tardily with long intervals of stasis in between. Harvey loses track of the minutes bleeding into each other, focused on nothing but the warmth and feeling of Mike’s body beneath him, the shape of his back he has gotten so familiar with. It glistens in the dim lights, warmed up and flushed everywhere Harvey has touched him.

“How do you feel?” he asks lowly, never stopping the slow movements of his hands. Mike hums in the back of his throat.

“Mmh. Warm. Taken care of.”

His voice is heavy and slightly slurred. Harvey glances at the candle, satisfied when he sees that the wax has melted. Right on time.

“If you need me to apply more or less pressure, don’t hesitate to ask for it.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Harvey stills his hands, reaching for the candle.

“This is going to be hot,” he warns gently. “I want you to feel the heat. Focus on it.”

A gasp escapes Mike when he tips the candle, letting the liquid oil dribble onto him. It’s a lot warmer than the oil from the bottle got, but Mike is no stranger to dealing with heat, and Harvey has a feeling it’s exactly what he needs right now. The pain will offer a good distraction, and along with his soothing touches, it should be enough to keep him out of his own head.

“Alright?”

Mike nods.

Harvey puts the candle down to rub the oil into his back. His skin is an enticing shade of red now, the pressure and heat making the blood rise to the surface. Harvey loves that sight, but the pleasure he draws from it is only an afterthought. Tonight isn’t about his needs. It’s only about Mike.

“What’s going on in your head?” he murmurs. “Talk to me, baby. Tell me what you can.”

The term of endearment slips out before he can think about it, not for the first time, but when he halts to reflect upon it, he realizes that he doesn’t mind. It feels appropriate for this situation, for who they are to each other by now. Mike’s breath freezes for a split second before it starts flowing again, and Harvey exhales deeply, relieved for some reason he can’t put into words.

“I’m… it feels great when you touch me like this, Sir. It’s really good. Like my muscles are melting off my bones.” He sighs, and the sound seems to come from deep within him, carrying so much weight that Harvey aches with it. “It’s quiet.”

Harvey can’t make sense of his words entirely, but the fact alone that Mike is talking and feeling better is enough to satisfy him.

“I’m glad. Just keep focusing on me. You’re alright. I’ve got you.”

Mike sighs again, almost inaudibly. “I know.”

Harvey is not sure if he imagines the traces of sadness in his voice. Deciding to let it go for now, he dribbles more of the oil onto Mike’s back. He rubs it into his flushed skin, losing himself in the movements. His breathing grows into one with Mike’s until they are perfectly in sync, and for an endless moment existing entirely within itself, the world consists of nothing but the shared rhythm and all the places where they connect.

Harvey doesn’t know how much time has passed when his hands finally come to a halt.

“Alright?”

Mike’s lips part with a quiet sigh. “Yes.”

It’s barely audible, but Harvey hears the truth in it loud and clear.

“Stay right here. We’ll get you all wrapped up.”

He’s not sure Mike could have moved if he’d wanted to, spread out on the sheets like a boneless puddle. He grabs his blanket, then returns to the bed.

“Here we go,” he murmurs, “that’s it.”

Mike rolls over to let himself be enveloped. Harvey makes sure every part of his skin is covered, knowing he’s going to get cold soon. On impulse, he leans in to press his lips to Mike’s shoulder before he tucks the edge of the blanket in and lies down beside him.

Mike’s eyes are fixed on his face. Harvey can see the exhaustion in them, but his gaze is alert.

“Thank you, Sir,” he murmurs.

“Nothing to thank me for, Mike. Nothing at all.”

Mike’s throat bobs. He sucks in his lip, gazing at him through his lashes. “Could we maybe…”

He glances at Harvey’s arms, what he’s asking for clearly written across his face.

“Of course,” Harvey replies immediately. “You’re not leaving this bed. You’ll stay.”

As if he would let Mike out of his sight right now.

Mike lets out a deep breath. Harvey rubs his shoulder. “Do you want to wash the oil off?”

“No,” Mike mutters. “I like it. Feels nice.”

“Alright.” Harvey inspects his face, brushing his cheek with the back of his hand. “Tell me how you feel,” he requests quietly.

Mike’s brow tightens as he thinks. Harvey wants to smooth it out with his thumb, but resists the urge, giving him the space to reflect.

Finally, Mike says, “Safe.”

“Good. That’s all I could ask for.”

The smile tugging at Mike’s lips is small, but it’s there.

“Close your eyes,” Harvey utters when he blinks a few times. “You must be exhausted. Don’t fight it.”

Mike hums, his eyes falling shut. “Will you sleep too?”

“Of course.”

Harvey stretches to grab the duvet, careful not to disturb him as he wraps it around them both. In the quiet of the room, he can hear every breath Mike draws. The steady rhythm is endlessly relaxing.

Snuggled into the crook of Harvey’s neck, Mike murmurs, “You’ll stay with me, right?”

His voice is so achingly small and unsure that Harvey’s heart breaks a little. Tightening his arms around him, he caresses his back soothingly.

“Of course. I’m not going anywhere.”

*

Looking back, Mike is only surprised about the fact that it took so long for the dam to break.

He doesn’t know what the final straw was. Work was stressful but not more so than usual, and his mood was just as bleak as it had been all week that night, but something about getting home and facing yet another day of the exact same routine just made him snap.

He’d had enough. He couldn’t take any more of it.

He hadn’t planned on seeking out Harvey, especially not in that state, but as it turned out he had gotten to a point where he didn’t know what else to do. He couldn’t stay inside his apartment on his own, he couldn’t go anywhere else, and really, if he was honest, the only person he really wanted to talk to, as usual, was Harvey.

So he went to him, never thinking farther than that he needed to see him, vague plans to watch a movie or crash on his sofa at the back of his mind.

But Harvey didn’t just let him in. He let him stay, and he took care of him, in a way no one has ever taken care of him in his life.

Harvey managed what Mike couldn’t do for weeks. He made the voice in his head go quiet.

It’s not that everything is okay now. Mike is still messed up. He still hates the idea of Harvey sceneing with someone else. But he doesn’t feel like he’s about to throw up all the time anymore. The weight on his shoulders hasn’t lifted, but it’s less prominent now. He has resigned to the thoughts. He can’t change any of it anyway.

Maybe he just needed to get this low before things could start looking up again. His breakdown is a little embarrassing in hindsight, but he can see now that it was desperately needed, almost cathartic.

“Sorry for barging in on you like this,” Mike muttered the next morning, accepting the cup of coffee Harvey handed him.

“You don’t ever have to apologize for coming to me when you need it,” Harvey told him at once, his eyes boring into his. Furrowing his brow, he asked, “Mike, what happened last night?”

Mike couldn’t blame him for asking. He sighed, rambling something about being stressed and just having a bad night while staying as vague on the details as possible. Harvey frowned, and Mike could tell that he wasn’t content, but at least he accepted his explanation.

When Mike finished by saying something about getting out of his hair soon, however, his frown deepened.

“I would prefer if you stayed another night,” he said, and the worry in his eyes was so earnest that Mike just did.

Neither of them made a joke about having a sleepover in the middle of the week. His staying at Harvey’s felt too natural to even think about that.

They went back to normal after that night – whatever normal means for them – and so the way their next scene felt caught him entirely off guard.

Perhaps Mike should have expected it to be different, but he couldn’t have imagined how heartbreakingly tender it would be if he’d tried. The touch of Harvey’s hands had never been cruel, but now there was a gentleness weaving through it that was almost too soft to bear, even when he struck Mike, when what he did should have been the opposite of a caress.

It left Mike’s skin burning long after the scene ended. He can still feel it when he closes his eyes, like the touch seeped through his flesh right into his bones. It’s a special kind of pain, one he is sure Harvey had no intention of inflicting on him.

Mike had no idea that something that makes him this happy could leave him so sad at the same time.

He never saw this coming. Sure, a power exchange is bound to be intense, and emotions running high is only natural. There was no way for him _not_ to get attached to the situation in some way. Or to Harvey.

He just didn’t know it would go this far. And now here he is, entirely fucked up in the head about the guy who gives him a beating every Friday night. And it hurts when Harvey strikes him, and it hurts when he touches him, and it hurts when he doesn’t, but since Mike is in this for the pain anyway, he figures that it doesn’t really matter.

It always mixes with something he can’t name after all, something that fills him with a fundamental sense of peace and rightness, and that feeling is worth everything. As long as he gets that in return for his struggles, there is really nothing to complain about.

It’s a strange sort of equilibrium, but it’s one Mike can live with.

As long as nothing disturbs it, he’s going to be fine.

*

The thing that always stood out to Mike is how well Harvey and he work together. They usually clash sometimes before teaming up again at the office, but during their scenes they always find their flow, figuring things out as they go along without any trouble.

No, things go wrong only once. But when they do, it’s properly.

It’s no one’s fault, really. Neither of them could have known what would happen. Because Mike likes being blindfolded. He likes being restricted, too.

It just so happens that he very much doesn't like both of these things at the same time.

It's fine in the beginning. Exciting, even. Mike doesn't mind when Harvey's fingers slip around his wrists to attach the handcuffs, even though he can’t see what he’s doing. The gentleness of his touch is enough to reassure him.

He eagerly agreed when Harvey said that he wanted to try something, offering his wrists at once. They’ve done bondage while he was blindfolded several times, after all. This shouldn’t be any different.

“My good boy,” Harvey murmurs when he’s done restraining him, running his finger along Mike’s jaw before stopping on his chest, his hand resting there for the span of a heartbeat before he draws back, leaving a tingling sensation behind.

Mike’s breath hitches.

It’s a new thing, this fondling. Harvey touched him before too, but never this often, never this casually. He caresses him while he disciplines him, while he allows Mike to get off, before and after their scenes and countless times in between.

Mike noticed it outside of the bedroom as well. A hand on his shoulder here. A squeeze of his wrist there. A clap on his thigh, just close enough to his crotch to make him twitch.

He’s watched Harvey carefully and has come to the conclusion that he’s not doing it on purpose. He doesn’t even seem to pick up on the fact that he’s doing it at all, or the way Mike reacts to it. It just comes naturally to him, like they have always been this physically affectionate with each other, like there is nothing noteworthy about it in any way.

Mike knows he only has himself to blame for this after showing up at Harvey’s the other day, blurring the lines even further, but no matter how much the touches catch him off guard, he can’t bring himself to regret it.

He has always loved his hands on him, after all.

The mattress shifts as Harvey withdraws his knee, taking a step back. “Beautiful,” he murmurs.

Mike lets the praise wash over him, a part of him immediately yearning for more. No matter how often Harvey tells him, it never quite feels like enough.

“I’ll be right back,” Harvey says, his voice a little more distant than before. Mike focuses on it, straining to listen for anything else, but the sounds of his steps are almost inaudible, the cluttering of the drawer when he opens it too quiet to really pick up on. There is nothing to focus on, no way to get a hint of what Harvey is doing.

Mike can't see which implement he has picked when he finally returns to the bed – obviously – and while that's usually the exciting part about being blindfolded, something about it unsettles him today. He pulls on the handcuffs, achieving nothing but a rattling sound that disturbs the almost eerie quiet.

On any other day, he likes the peaceful calm of the room, an oasis of tranquility that helps him shut out the external world and focus on nothing but the scene and the sensations it offers. It feels off today, though he can’t put his finger on why.

Harvey ignores the sound of his handcuffs, stepping closer to the bed. Mike holds his breath in an attempt to regain some of his orientation, as if he could figure out what Harvey's about to do by just listening hard enough. Rationally he knows that the handcuffs don’t prevent him from knowing what’s going on any more than the blindfold alone would, but he can’t help himself from fixating on them anyway, feeling the cool metal around his wrists acutely.

“Twenty strikes,” Harvey announces, dragging the implement down his chest to give him a clue. Mike holds his breath, trying to feel the shape and quality through the light touch. He is not sure, but it might be the paddle. That gives him at least a lead as to what kind of pain to expect.

“You’re going to count for me.”

“Yes, Sir.”

The implement comes down on his thigh before he knows it, and Mike gasps at the rapidly spreading pain. He recognizes it now. Definitely the paddle.

“One,” he starts, listening to the echoes of the waves the hurt caused with a frown. He recognizes it, yes, but it still feels different somehow. The pain is not like it usually is, how a first strike should make him feel, how it needs to feel for him to take it and turn it into something else.

_It’s not how it’s supposed to be._

Before he can get behind the reasons for that thought, the paddle meets his skin again. The second strike consolidates what he was already sensing. Something’s wrong. Mike can feel the hair on his arms rising where the cold metal hugs his wrists. It’s so damn cold. Shouldn’t it have warmed up by now?

Shouldn’t he be focused on something else?

“Two,” he says with a slight delay when the silence starts ringing between them, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat. This is not good. This is not good at all.

Maybe Harvey notices that he’s troubled, because he pauses long enough to let him draw a few deep breaths before he resumes his actions.

The next one isn’t better.

On the contrary.

Harvey gets a total of four strokes onto him before Mike’s composure comes apart at the edges.

Usually he is good at handling the paddle and the thudding pain it provides, but the dull sensation doesn't cease today. Instead it spreads, filling him with a nagging hollowness that seems to steal all the air out of his lungs, and Mike can't help it, he starts panicking.

He’s never had an anxiety attack before, so he’s not sure if that’s what’s happening to him, but whatever it is, he _really_ doesn’t like it. He can’t breathe. He can’t see, he can’t move, even beyond the handcuffs holding him in place. An almost unnatural cold is taking hold of him, seeping into his bones and sitting on his chest oppressively.

Mike has never felt so goddamn alone. And it doesn’t make sense because Harvey is right there, and the room is warm and he’s not supposed to be feeling like this, but he can’t fucking breathe, and with the fourth strike everything inside him comes to an abrupt, jarring halt.

And just like that, he’s done. He can’t take any more, can’t go a single step farther than this.

“Veritas.”

The word is out before he decides to say it. It sounds so croaked and foreign that even Mike doesn't recognize it, and so he repeats, louder this time, “Veritas. Veritas.”

It’s curious, how little it took to cross the line in the end. How, after all the things they have done, this is what brought him to his absolute limit.

The echo of his words only rings in his ears for a split second before Harvey drops the paddle. His hands are on him at once, as gentle as they can be as they fly across his skin.

“It’s alright,” he tells him calmly. “You’re alright. I’m taking these off you. It’s okay, I’ve got you.”

Mike clings to his voice like a lifeline, the low and assuring tone carrying him through the final few seconds of his panic until Harvey has freed him.

The blindfold goes first, and Mike is grateful that he’s no longer left in the dark, blinking against the sudden brightness as he tries to focus on his surroundings, on anything other than the hollowness within him still threatening to swallow him up. His heart is racing, but it’s better now that he can see, that he feels the warmth of Harvey’s body close to his again.

Harvey’s eyes are fixed on his wrists, his own alarm evident in nothing but the hasty movements of his hands as he unties him. Mike focuses on him as he sucks deep breaths into his lungs, trying to convince himself that they aren’t as small as they feel.

“There you go,” Harvey murmurs, taking the handcuffs off him. He drops them on the floor without another glance, his focus shifting to Mike’s face instantly.

“Is that better?

Mike gives a jerky nod.

“Alright. Deep breaths, come on, that’s it. Take deep breaths for me. You’re alright.”

Mike forces himself to follow the rhythm he dictates until his breath starts flowing naturally. Harvey is watching him attentively, nodding in encouragement.

“That’s it, just like that. You’re doing great. Are you feeling better? Can you tell me what you need?”

Mike is thankful for the calmness of his voice, the steadiness he can lean on, helping him through the residual waves of trepidation lapping at him. “I’m fine,” he gets out, inhaling deeply. “I’m better, I’m better. I just…”

He lets out a shuddering breath, trying to clear his head. Harvey is staring at him, and Mike can tell that he itches to touch him, probably holding himself back to give him space, unsure if the contact is welcome.

“Can you hold me, please,” he gasps, and Harvey’s shoulders slump in relief at once as he nods.

“Of course. Come here, I’ve got you. It’s okay. It’s over now.”

Mike lets the platitudes wash over him as Harvey wraps his arms around him, guiding them backwards until they are lying down. He pulls the sheet over them with one hand, immediately returning to him once they’re wrapped up. He keeps murmuring to him, the circle of his arms tight without being oppressive, and his touch calms Mike enough to finally quiet the turmoil in his mind. He takes another breath, savoring how easily it comes.

The remnants of his panic attack slowly evaporate. Harvey must feel him relaxing, must feel the tension seeping out of his shoulders, but he never lets go, never stops his tender ministrations or the soft whispers against the top of his head. His embrace is nothing but gentle, and Mike feels safe in the cocoon of his arms, drawing deep breaths as he lets the scent he has come to associate with comfort and care wash over him. It’s so familiar that his heart contracts. It equals something as close to his definition of home as it gets, touching a primal instinct inside Mike like nothing else can. It's unconditional, implicit safety. It's just… Harvey. His Harvey, making everything else go quiet.

Mike’s heart stutters painfully in his chest.

The realization hits him like a truck, forcing all the air out of his lungs with dizzying force. _His Harvey_. The man who cares for him, comforts him, steadies him, and has done so long before any of this even started. The man who's always been there for Mike, in ways no one else ever was.

The man he's in love with. Deeply. Desperately.

There is no way around it. He is so goddamn in love with Harvey, and Mike really should have realized it sooner, but now that it's staring him in the face he can't do anything but stare back, can't as much as move.

“Shit,” he whispers involuntarily.

Harvey, of course, doesn't know any of this.

“Are you alright?” he asks at once, his voice filled with worry and gentle care and _fuck_ , Mike is in deep shit.

“I'm alright,” he mutters, giving his arm a reassuring squeeze, because no matter what kind of life-altering realization he just had, Harvey is worried about him, and he doesn't need to suffer too.

It's not his fault. It's not his fault that Mike went and did the most foolish thing imaginable, that he couldn't separate his feelings from this, that he's so infuriatingly handsome and powerful and tender that Mike couldn't help himself, couldn't help falling for him if he'd tried, and-

Goddamn it. How did this happen? How the hell did he end up here?

How the hell did he not see it sooner?

Exhaustion slows down his thoughts, making it hard to focus on what's important. His head is swimming and he's worn out beyond words, the realization only playing a small part in the whole that makes up the present moment. The scene, the panic attack, Harvey's arms, the depth of his affection threatening to suffocate him...

Harvey's arms.

He chooses to focus on that because it's right here, right now, and it’s maybe not the smartest thing to center on in light of recent revelations, but it’s the only one keeping him from spiraling into a complete breakdown.

“Are you really?” Harvey's voice cuts through the haze in his mind, clearly unconvinced, and Mike closes his eyes, his tender embrace nearly overwhelming him. It has no business feeling this good, shouldn't leave him this calm and comforted, but he doesn't have it in him to fight it. He wouldn't want to, anyway.

“I'm fine, I promise,” Mike assures him, and because he knows Harvey isn't going to let it go – of course he isn't, that's not who he is, and that shouldn't make him feel so stupidly fond – he adds, “I was- I got a little overwhelmed, but it's okay now, I'm sorry, I-”

“What on earth are you sorry for?”

Harvey sounds genuinely confused, nearly incredulous. In different circumstances, it would make Mike smile.

“You did the right thing in using your safeword, and I’m glad you did. Don’t ever apologize for what you’re feeling, Mike. I’m serious.”

Well.

“Alright,” Mike mutters, clearing his throat. He lets out a deep breath, staring ahead.

What a goddamn mess.

Harvey gives him another minute before he draws back slightly, though he never actually lets go of him, to get a good look at his face.

“Are you okay to talk about it?”

Mike sighs. He considers telling him that there's nothing to talk about, but knowing that it's futile, he nods. Harvey sits up, prompting Mike to do the same, and regards him intently. It's a gaze that would leave him feeling naked and vulnerable coming from anyone else, but from Harvey it just makes him feel... cared for.

He suppresses a shiver, pulling the sheet tighter around himself.

“What triggered it? The panic? Was it something I did?”

Mike shakes his head. “You did nothing wrong,” he insists, and because Harvey getting that message is vital, he reaches out to cover his hand. “I think being blindfolded and handcuffed at the same time was just... not good. Individually it's fine, I just don't like the combination of both at the same time. Apparently.”

At Harvey's frown he squeezes his hand, searching his eyes. “Hey. It's not your fault. It was an honest mistake. Neither of us could have known before we tried, but it's okay. That's what we're doing here, right? Testing limits. This one just didn't work. No harm done.”

He sounds calmer than he feels, and it leaves him with a bitter hint of guilt on his tongue, but it’s the truth nevertheless, and Harvey needs to understand that. None of this is his wrongdoing.

The rational approach seems to work. Harvey inspects his face before he exhales.

“Right. No more blindfolds and handcuffs in one scene.” He pauses. “How are you feeling now?”

“Fine.” Mike shrugs. “A little worn out.”

_Like a truck drove over me._

Harvey nods gravely. “Is there anything else you need me to do differently next time? Be honest.”

“I am. I've told you nothing but the truth today,” Mike says, ignoring how much it feels like a lie. He never promised Harvey full disclosure about what's going on in his head. He just promised that what he tells him will always be the truth, and unless Harvey outright asks if he's in love with him...

Well, chances are they will never have to find out if Mike would tell the truth then.

He waves his hand, both to make the train of thought go away and dismiss Harvey's worrying.

“I told you, I'm good. I really am. So please stop worrying and just... make sure I don't get subdrop or anything.”

He lets out a relieved breath when the corner of Harvey's mouth lifts minutely, though his frown doesn’t cease. “Is that your way of asking to be cuddled?”

Mike sighs. “If you must put it like that...”

“Well, we don't want to risk any dropping right now. You’ve been through enough.”

He doesn't know the half of it.

“So we can stop talking about it and get back to aftercare now?” Mike asks hopefully.

Harvey nods and opens his arms, guiding them both back down, and Mike closes his eyes, blocking out the voice in his head telling him that he's a fool for holding on to something so fickle, pretending it's something that it's not when he’s already in so deep.

Mike knows he shouldn’t, but he doesn't care. Not right now, not when he's so goddamn tired and overwhelmed and Harvey is right there, offering even the smallest bit of what Mike truly wants from him so readily.

He'll be damned if he doesn't take it.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, from here on the chapters just did not want to end. This one is still fairly short in comparison, but chapter 9 and 10 were determined to each turn into a whole fic by themselves. I've decided against splitting them up and will just dump them on you as they are, but I thought I'd give you a fair warning because long story short, we're nearing the end and things are... happening. Alright, before I make a stupid joke about reaching the last thirty percent (which is not true anyway if we're looking at the word count), uh... enjoy?

So Mike really went and did the stupidest thing he could have possibly done.

He fell in love with Harvey.

Mike has done some shit in his life, and he is not exactly known for staying out of trouble, but this has to take the cake.

Harvey Specter, of all people. Couldn’t have been anyone else. No, it had to be Mike’s dom, who just also happens to be his boss, and his best friend on top of that.

Figures.

Harvey was reluctant to let him leave that morning, insisting on making a big breakfast and checking on him twice before he allowed Mike to go home. After making him promise to call if anything was up, of course.

Mike stifles a sigh. This man.

He managed to put up a front while he was at Harvey’s, but now that he’s by himself, there is nothing keeping his thoughts from spiraling.

“Shit,” he mutters, staring at the wall miserably. The silence of his apartment answers.

He is so goddamn fucked.

The shock of the realization hasn’t quite worn off, but the more Mike thinks about it, the less he understands how it took him this long to get there. He’s supposed to be smart, for god’s sake. All the signs were there. How did he not see it sooner?

Well, he can make a guess. Because what he feels for Harvey, what he finally understands now, is unlike anything he has ever experienced. If this is love, then he has never been in love before. Not like this, in this all-consuming way, where the feeling is too big for him to even comprehend. Where it became what he lives and breathes, a part of him as integral as his lungs or his heart.

No, Mike has never been in love like this before. And in his defense, he has never taken part in a permanent power exchange either. He’s new to this, and so the feelings taking root inside him, they didn’t strike him as odd in any way.

He thought that was what’s supposed to happen. He thought that was normal.

Turns out he was just goddamn oblivious the entire time.

“ _Fuck,_ ” he groans.

It just had to come to this, didn’t it?

Harvey keeps telling him that there is always another way, but he’s wrong. There were never 146 other ways for this to go. Harvey put a gun to Mike’s head and Mike let him pull the trigger willingly. He was always going to end up falling in love with him, he just didn’t realize that before.

And it’s too late now. The damage is done, the bullet already lodged in his brain, and the only question that’s left is how fast he is going to bleed out.

Mike has absolutely no idea what he’s supposed to do.

He stares ahead, worrying his lip until he can taste blood. His mind inevitably wanders to the time Harvey’s mouth was there, how he kissed him like there was no tomorrow, leaving an imprint on him that has yet to fade. Mike can still taste the chocolate when he closes his eyes, the same way he can feel Harvey’s touch on him even when he’s not there, like an intangible net woven around him that tightens with every move.

He would rather focus on the copper in his mouth than the sinking sensation in his guts, but he knows there is no way around it. He eases off the tender skin and forces himself to stop picking at it. No more looking the other way.

There’s a decision he has to make, things he should think about now, and it’s certainly not the warmth of Harvey’s arms around him or the way his lips tasted when they touched his.

Mike groans again, running a hand over his face.

So what now? Does he continue doing what he does every Friday night or does he… stop?

He makes a scornful noise. The sound hurts in his throat.

It’s a moot point _. Of course_ he is going to continue. Deep down he knows that he would die before he ended this arrangement prematurely.

Well, considering how well his life has been going lately, that might be an actual possibility.

For some reason, the thought strikes him as so funny that he lets out a choked sound, pressing his hand against his mouth to stifle the hysterical laughter bubbling up in him.

God, he’s actually losing his mind.

Not that it matters. The ship has sailed. He’s already too in love with Harvey to even think about forgetting him, and Mike is too much of a fool to do the sensible thing and put a stop to their arrangement. It may kill him to keep exposing himself to what Harvey offers, the affection that is never going to mean what he wants it to, but if that’s all he is going to get, how could he ever refuse it?

No, there is absolutely no way he is going to be the one who ends this.

The irony is not lost on him. This is masochism at its finest.

“This is fucked up,” Mike mutters to himself. “You’re so fucked up in the head.”

At least he’s not fucked up enough to reply. Eventually he gets up, preparing a quick dinner just to have something to do. Breakfast was a few hours ago, and Harvey would want him to eat.

Mike sighs, crumpling the plastic wrapping in his hands. Just when has every goddamn aspect of his life started revolving around Harvey?

He sucks in his lip as he leans against the counter, staring ahead while his pasta cooks. He wonders how long it will take for the novelty to wear off, for him to stop jumping every time the words _in love_ cross his mind. If he will regret the choice he’s making later on.

He doesn’t regret it now.

The whole thing still leaves him with a sinking sensation in his stomach, though. It’s with a mix of apprehension and excitement that he thinks about their next scene and what it’s going to be like, now that he knows.

Well, there’s only one way to find out. Mike is many things, a fraud and a supposed genius and most of all clearly a goddamn idiot, but nobody can tell him that he’s a quitter.

*

In a way it’s easier to deal with his feelings now that he has identified them.

In a way it’s much worse.

While it’s a relief to finally understand why he reacts to the thought of Harvey with someone else so strongly, it doesn’t change the fact that he _does_ react that way.

Mike still hates the idea of him with that other sub. He still can’t stop thinking about it. Especially with the six month mark coming closer steadily, his thoughts keep being drawn to the despicable image. It’s still a while off, granted, but it won’t always be. And Mike has no idea what he will do then.

Now is not the time to think about that, though. For now, Harvey still seems determined to occupy all the space in Mike’s head.

And he does it so effortlessly, too.

“I’ve got a surprise for you,” he murmurs when they’re cuddled up after their next scene. Mike is pleasantly worn out, but there is too much going through his head for him to fall asleep just yet.

He cranes his head to gaze at him. “Yeah? What kind?

A smile plays on Harvey’s lips. “You’ll see next week.”

Mike huffs, though he can’t bring himself to really be mad. “That’s not fair.”

Harvey chuckles. “I never said I’d play fair,” he says and, as if the statement needed any reinforcement, presses his lips to Mike’s temple.

Mike sighs, pretending that his heart doesn’t skip a beat at the simple touch. “Yeah, you really don’t,” he mutters.

Of course, seeing how intrigued he is, Harvey won’t let himself be persuaded to give him anything more, merely teasing him with the look in his eyes and the secret smile playing on his lips. Considering that it gives him something else to think about during the week, Mike doesn’t really mind.

Harvey doesn’t tell him what he has planned until the very last minute, going as far as putting a blindfold on him before he lets him enter the bedroom that Friday. Mike goes through his discipline without the faintest idea of what’s coming next, and it’s only when he has taken his twenty strikes that Harvey shows mercy.

“I got us something new to play with,” he announces, dragging the paddle down his chest idly. Mike listens up. A new implement, perhaps? “I think you’re going to like it. I know _I_ will.”

If this were anyone else, the tone of Harvey’s voice would have him worried. As it is, it only sparks his excitement further.

“Do you want to see it?”

“Yes, Sir,” Mike agrees eagerly. Instead of replying, Harvey puts the paddle down and takes off the blindfold.

Mike blinks against the sudden light until his eyes have adjusted. There’s a smirk on Harvey’s face as he steps aside to reveal what’s behind him.

In the middle of the room is a rack. An actual, honest-to-god rack that looks like something straight out of a dungeon.

“Fuck,” Mike mutters involuntarily.

This is so much better than anything he imagined.

His eyes drink in the details of the framework greedily. On second thought, the rack is fairly straightforward. Two metal hooks at the top and one in every corner, nothing too fancy or complicated like Mike has seen in pictures.

It doesn’t make the sight any less intriguing, though.

“I was going to ask you for a color, but I can see now that won’t be necessary.”

“It’s fucking green, Sir,” Mike mutters.

“Language,” Harvey chides him, but Mike can see his satisfaction when he manages to tear his eyes from the rack. “That’ll earn you five more minutes on there.”

At the sight of Mike’s expression, he smiles. “You may not think that’s a lot. You’ll change your mind, trust me.”

He drags his fingers over the rope he laid out on the bed. “This will be an exercise in patience and endurance. I have complete faith that you can handle it, but I know it’s going to be a challenge. I want you to push through and hold out for me as long as you can.”

“I will, Sir.”

_For you, anything._

Harvey gives him a smile that has his heart clenching.

“Come here,” he asks, running the rope over his palm as Mike scrambles up from the bed. “Hands out.”

He winds the rope around his wrists swiftly, the movements practiced and familiar. Mike holds his breath when his fingers close around his arms, bringing the first one above his head, then the second. His hands linger once he has attached the rope to the hooks before they fall away.

“How’s that?”

Mike strains against the restrictions. They are tight, and his arms are stretched as far from his body as they will go, but he thinks that he can hold this position for a while.

“It’s fine, Sir.”

“Good. Now your legs.”

Mike blinks dumbly when Harvey sinks to one knee, sliding the rope around his ankles. He won’t even pretend the sight doesn’t weird him out. It’s too far removed from the role Harvey embodies in here to even feel real.

Thankfully, it doesn’t last long. Once he has attached the rope to the metal on both sides – and, okay, this is going to get uncomfortable very fast – he rises, raising his chin to check for something in his expression.

“We’re starting with fifteen minutes today. You’re going to wait for me until I return,” Harvey tells him.

Mike nods. That part isn’t new to him, but it doesn’t feel as intimidating as it did before.

This time he knows Harvey is coming back, and this time his own thoughts aren’t waging war against him. He can give in to the thrill, can embrace the challenge and what he will hopefully get out of it.

“The time you’re going to spend on this is yours. You can use it to reflect if you want, but it’s okay if you only focus on holding on. Whatever it takes for you to push through this is fine.”

He holds Mike’s gaze as he steps back. “If you reach a point where you can’t go on, use your safeword. I’ll hear you.”

Of course he will. There is no world in which Mike could believe that Harvey would actually leave him hanging.

Harvey touches his cheek, then turns and walks out of the room. Mike is left with the tingle on his skin where his hand was just a second ago, all the more prominent in the sudden deep silence around him.

Not for the first time he wonders what it is Harvey does out there when he leaves him to wait, but the train of thought is futile, and there are more pressing matters at hand that soon distract him.

With Harvey as the main focus of Mike’s attention gone, the strain of his wrists is coming to the fore.

He could only have been hanging there for a minute, but he already feels the exertion of it, the blood draining from his arms in a rush. Harvey was right, it is going to be a challenge.

The rack is solid, at least, so there’s no need to worry about it giving in under his weight. Not that he expects Harvey to be that careless.

He experimentally wraps his hands around the rope and lifts himself up, but it’s not a position he can hold for long and it offers only a small relief anyway. He’ll save it for later.

Two minutes pass. Mike only notices that his breathing has grown heavier when the sound of it reverberates in his ears.

He would huff at himself, but decides not to waste his breath. He should really work out more.

Three minutes. Four. Mike doesn’t want to count, but he knows attempting to stop his brain from doing so is pointless.

To distract himself, he tries to divert his thoughts. He doesn’t think about how many seconds he has left. He doesn’t think about the percentage he has already brought behind him or that’s still ahead.

Mike closes his eyes and breathes. The echo of Harvey’s voice is still clear in his mind, the way the words blended until they became only sounds. _Focus on me._

Mike allows himself to slip into the rhythm and just breathes, and breathes, and breathes, until the beat of his own heart carries him over to a place where the growing ache doesn’t register anymore.

He breathes past the pain in his limbs, past the strain on his tense muscles until he no longer trembles with exertion, instead swaying ever so softly. He counts, but it’s for the sake of it rather than marking the passage of time.

_Focus on me. Focus on me. Focus on me._

It requires concentration, maintaining this state of tranquility. But Mike is not a rookie anymore. It costs him every ounce of effort he can muster, but he manages, and the sense of accomplishment rising in him the longer he holds his balance elates him.

The strange mix of excitement and peace inside him keeps him occupied, and with Harvey’s voice on an endless loop in his head, time passes without Mike even thinking about giving up.

The ache in his limbs transforms over time, and he observes the change with passive curiosity, detached enough from the pain to acknowledge it without letting it swallow him up.

_Focus on me._

Mike’s lungs expand with every breath he takes. He knows that a third of his time on here is still ahead of him, that it’s only been ten minutes, but it doesn’t feel as short as the number suggests, not even close.

He is working so hard to sustain his state of serenity that time loses all meaning. He is in pain, but he’s also floating. His entire body radiates warmth, the tips of his hair slowly growing damp with perspiration.

Time is often altered in here, but Mike has never felt fifteen minutes pass so acutely. The tick of each second resonates down his spine, mixing with the heat of his strain. This is different from any other kind of discipline, far from the sharp pain of receiving strikes, something else than being tied up as well. The creeping, slow ache takes him into the desired headspace in an entirely different way, but it does take him there in the end.

Mike’s skin is covered in a sheen of sweat when his time runs out. He blinks drowsily when Harvey’s steps sound seconds before he returns, his gaze only adding to the heat that took hold of him.

“Your time is up. You’ve done so well for me, Mike. I’m very proud of you.”

He doesn’t seem surprised that he pushed through, but Mike can tell that he means every word from the way his eyes are glued to his, like the sight of him is such a delicious treat that he can’t bear to miss a second of it.

A shiver runs down his spine. Harvey licks his lips. “I’m going to let you down now. Lean on me if you need to support yourself.”

Mike nods, watching with mild interest how the room seems to shift ever so slightly when Harvey steps in to untie him. He detaches the rope around his ankles, then frees his wrist, gently placing it next to his thigh.

Funnily enough, the ache worsens before it recedes slightly. Mike flexes his muscles, surprised by how weak they feel. Harvey unties his other wrist too, his hand lingering on him as he tells him, “Shake them out for me. That’s it. How do you feel?”

“Like jelly,” Mike mutters, irrational accomplishment rising in him at the quirk of Harvey’s lips. “I feel great, Sir,” he then adds, just to be sure.

“Good.” Harvey looks satisfied and the slightest bit mischievous when he says, “I’m about to make you feel even better.”

He runs his thumb along his cheek, cradling his jaw before he seems to be able to tear himself away.

“Get on the bed,” he asks, and Mike is glad for the instruction because he’s not sure his body could have held him upright otherwise. Thankfully, his legs carry out the order without his conscious decision. It’s like a reflex at this point.

Harvey follows him once he has dropped down, towering over him with a look in his eyes that would make Mike break into a sweat if he weren’t drenched already.

“Look at you,” Harvey murmurs, the words so low that Mike isn’t sure they were even meant for him to hear, before he shakes himself. “I’m going to touch you now, and you’re going to let me do as I please with you. If you can, you may come whenever you want.”

The phrasing of that statement doesn’t escape him, but Mike is too occupied with the prospect to really question it.

His heart rate speeds up as soon as Harvey gets one knee on the bed, crawling over him until he takes up all of Mike’s vision. He’s staring up at him while Harvey is staring down, neither of them moving.

Mike remembers to exhale when Harvey’s eyes eventually drop to his chest, the air leaving his lungs shakily as he traces the line from his throat to his bellybutton. He is sure that he can feel every shift of his muscles.

“Marvelous,” he mutters. The simple praise reverberates in Mike’s head with perfect clarity.

A gasp leaves him when Harvey pinches his nipple, his eyes fixed on his face. He hums, and before Mike can interpret the thoughtful sound he is already repeating the movement, significantly harder this time.

Mike inhales sharply, squeezing his eyes shut at the spark of pain shooting through him. He opens them again as soon as he remembers himself, drinking in every detail of the view before him. He’s going to want to remember this, the way Harvey looks staring down at him, how Mike can read all the signs of his desire in his eyes the second before he lowers his head and drags his lips across his skin.

Harvey must be trying to kill him. The path of his mouth is unpredictable, the kisses messy and wet, leaving Mike hot all over. He lets the onslaught of emotions blind him, distracted by the warm softness of Harvey’s lips that he’s been dreaming of since the night he felt them against his own, and so it catches him entirely off guard when Harvey sinks his teeth into the flesh right above his collar bone.

Mike cries out before he cuts himself off with a whimper, the effort to keep quiet leaving him trembling. Harvey looks up, his gaze burning through him.

“You’re allowed to talk, baby,” he murmurs, staring at Mike’s lips as he licks his own. “Tell me how it feels. Tell me what you want me to do.”

His voice comes out breathlessly, like he’s the one being tortured in the most exquisite way Mike can think of. “I want to hear you beg. You do it so prettily.”

Another whimper escapes him, entirely involuntary. “Please,” Mike mutters, not even knowing what he’s asking for, but if Harvey wants him to beg, there is no way he isn’t going to. “Please, Sir, please touch me again.”

Harvey runs his thumb over the bite mark he left, then trails down his chest. “You want me to do that again?”

Mike nods avidly.

“Say it. Say that you want me to touch you.”

“Touch me, Sir,” Mike gets out. “Please. Please.”

Harvey ducks his head, brushing his lips along Mike’s jaw. “Just touch?” he murmurs against his skin, his hot breath leaving him dizzy.

“Fuck,” Mike gasps, sucking in a sharp breath. “Mark me. Kiss me, Sir. Kiss me, please, I want you to, I want-“

His pleas die down when Harvey takes his face, his thumb on his pulse, his index finger pressing behind his ear as he leans in to meet his lips. The kiss is wet and careless and so dirty that Mike’s heart skips a beat before it starts racing.

It can’t be long – though Mike isn’t sure, too caught up in it to keep track of time – but it seems to last forever, stretching into the immeasurable before Harvey finally draws back. His hand grabs on his waist before it slides downwards, lingering on his hip.

The position draws Mike’s attention to the fact that he is hard as a fucking rock, and Harvey hasn’t touched his cock once.

“Like that?” Harvey asks cantingly, and it’s not fair that he can still do that, that Mike is this close to passing out from sheer arousal and Harvey can still tease him. He knows he’s affected as well, can feel the evidence pressing into his hip and the hunger in his gaze, but he’s still in control. Mike can’t help but admire him for it. He certainly wouldn’t be, if their roles were reversed.

“Yeah,” he sighs.

Harvey hums. His hand wanders along his leg, brushing the inside of his thigh idly. He goes up and down, barely touching him at all, but the light contact still manages to set his skin on fire effortlessly. He’s so goddamn close to where Mike wants him. His cock twitches in desperation, but it’s like Harvey can’t even see it.

“Is this what you want?” he asks as he caresses Mike’s thigh, as if he doesn’t know exactly what he’s after.

Mike trembles with pent-up arousal, unable to help the desperation leaking into his voice as he chokes out, “Yes. Please, yes, I-“

Harvey leans in to kiss him again, biting his bruised lip before he licks over the ache. Mike accepts the stinging of his eyes silently, knowing that he won’t be able to stop it anyway. It’s not because he’s in pain – he is, but that’s inconsequential. It’s because this is beyond what he can process, more intense than he was built to endure. Harvey isn’t even _doing_ much to him, and yet he has never felt this connected to another person, not just on a physical level but mentally as well, and he has no idea how to cope with it.

The air is filled with their panting, the heavy sounds mingling, turning him on beyond compare. It only heightens the electricity pulsating between them, spurring them on in their explorations, in their need to be closer, to feel more of each other.

They can't seem to stop touching, to _stop_.

Harvey allowed him to talk this time, even asked him to, but he didn’t say anything about moving. So when keeping still proves to be impossible, Mike decides to take a leap of faith. His mouth is dry when he touches Harvey, needing to feel whatever part of him he can reach. He digs his fingers into his biceps, probably too hard, too rough, but Harvey just licks his lips, nodding him to continue.

It’s only right, a distant part of Mike’s brain notes. Now they’re hurting each other.

The rough quality of Harvey’s voice sends a shiver down his spine. “How does it feel?”

Mike searches his mind for the right way to describe it and comes up with a blank. None of the words he knows come close to what it’s like, the way Harvey’s touch tears him open and eases the pain at the same time.

“It hurts,” he whispers, and it’s entirely insufficient but it’s the most he can do. “It hurts, Sir, please, I need…“

But Harvey seems to know exactly what he means. He resumes his actions, his hands digging into his hips, and Mike can feel the last of his control slip away at the touch burning through him.

He doesn’t try to hold on.

“Please,” he gasps again, and it comes out as a sob, but there is not a single part of him that cares. Harvey has seen the tears gathering in his eyes anyway, he’s the one who put them there in the first place, and there’s no point in hiding them.

“That’s it, my pretty boy,” Harvey murmurs, caressing his thigh like the tender skin there is the most beautiful thing he has ever seen, and that’s when Mike finally realizes that Harvey isn’t going to touch his cock. That’s what this is about, touching him without _touching_ him. He wants to see if Mike can come from this, if this is enough to push him over the edge.

Mike is not ashamed to admit that it is.

“Please, please, please,” he chants, mindless with arousal, and Harvey digs his fingers into his skin in reply, drawing a chocked whimper from him.

It doesn’t even matter where he touches him anymore. Every part of Mike’s body has transformed into an erogenous zone, a raw nerve that ignites upon a single contact. His cock is weeping, ready to burst at the slightest stimulation, but Harvey just keeps exploring him like he’s a marvel to uncover, his rhythm too unpredictable to make sense of.

“You’re mine,” Mike hears him murmuring, the low whisper making his hair stand on end. And then Harvey digs his nails into his skin, creating an unexpected, delicious sting as he drags them down, and Mike _loses_ it.

“Fuck,” he chokes out, and Harvey responds at once by leaving another set of scratches. The heat blooms on Mike’s chest, every touch of Harvey’s fingers creating a physical mark.

Mike doesn’t even notice anymore that his cock remains untouched. He feels the neglect, but it’s overshadowed by the stinging of his chest and Harvey’s skin all over him, every contact transforming into pure arousal in milliseconds until he’s hanging on by the thinnest thread.

It’s too much, too much on all fronts, and Harvey just keeps on giving him more.

“My beautiful boy,” he whispers, and the inexplicable yet undeniable awe in his voice brings Mike to his knees, because the fact that he gets to be that to Harvey, if nothing else, that at least for the duration of their scenes he looks at him like this, is _everything._

The tears running down his cheeks don’t even register anymore. They gather at his jaw, dripping onto his chest, but all Mike can think of are Harvey’s hands, the weight of his body on top of him, the desire in his voice as he praises him, leaving no room for anything else in his head.

His entire world shrinks down to Harvey. He is the feeling pulsing through his body, the arousal stimulating his every nerve to the point of torture, the tension building in his stomach that leaves him unable to breathe.

He’s close. He’s so goddamn close that his entire body is shaking with it, his heart beating so fast that it might actually lift out of his chest. Mike feels each and every one of his cells acutely because they are all on fire, all screaming at Harvey to have mercy, screaming at himself to let go.

So Mike lets go.

A sob rips through him as he spends himself with quick, hot pulses, something falling from his lips that might be Harvey’s name. The relief is so intense that Mike actually floats, the tension seeping out of his body as the pleasure ripples through him.

“I’ve got you,” Harvey murmurs, gathering him in his arms with no regard for the mess Mike is making on his stomach. “I’ve got you, I’ve got you, I’ve got you.”

His hand strokes his hair endlessly as he waits for Mike to come down.

It takes a long time.

When he finally resurfaces from the blissful, precious lightness, he finds himself locked in Harvey’s gaze, hungrily staring at the sight he makes.

What he sees when he looks at him, Mike has no idea. The pain is dulled by the hormones flooding his system for the moment, but he is so wrung out that he can’t even think about moving, and he’s sure it shows.

“Harvey,” he slurs, his tongue too heavy to cooperate, but Harvey’s arm tightens around him at once, his hands never stopping their exploration of his exhausted body.

“Beautiful. So goddamn beautiful,” he murmurs. “You liked that, baby, didn’t you?”

“I did,” Mike agrees, blinking a few times in an attempt to clear his head. “I loved it, Sir.”

“Then thank me,” Harvey tells him. Mike turns his head, kissing the back of Harvey’s hand at once.

“Thank you, Sir,” he whispers. His voice shakes. Harvey may have broken him for good this time.

Harvey shifts above him, and it takes Mike a few seconds that the scene is not over.

He doesn’t have an ounce of strength left in his body, but Harvey makes him carry on regardlessly, and as usual when Harvey wants him to do something, Mike follows his wish.

He is used to being the one who is insatiable, who always wants more, but today it’s Harvey who can’t seem to stop.

His hands roam Mike’s body endlessly, never leaving him. His hungry gaze on him doesn’t waver once. Mike can feel his erection through the fabric of his pants, the slow roll of his hips as he rubs against him, and his hand lifts on its own account, touching Harvey’s hip.

“Can I make you come, Sir? Please? I’ll be a good boy, I promise. I’ll be so good for you. I just wanna touch you. Please, just let me…”

His speech is still slurred, the words heavy and breathless. Harvey groans, his own breath coming hard and fast, and his eyes bore into Mike’s before he finally gives a jerky nod.

“Do it,” he agrees, his jaw twitching, and Mike doesn’t need to be told twice. The prospect of getting to touch Harvey’s cock gives him the necessary energy to unbuckle his belt and pull down his underwear enough to wrap his hand around him.

He doesn’t know who groans louder at the touch and he doesn’t really care either. All that matters is that he gets to feel Harvey like this, hot and firm and heavy in his palm.

It’s been too long since he was allowed to get him off, and with the realizations he has come to in the meantime, it stirs all kinds of complicated feelings in him that he doesn’t have the capacity to examine right now.

Harvey curses when Mike starts stroking him, tightening around him at the sound. He figures out what it takes by Harvey’s groans, having no mind to draw things out as he focuses solely on his expression and what it betrays about his state.

“Fuck, yeah, like that,” Harvey pants, his hand digging into Mike’s shoulder painfully. He gasps, letting the ache fuel his movements as he tries to wring as many little moans out of him as he can. Harvey growls something when he twists his wrist, cutting himself off by biting the curve of his neck tight enough for Mike to see stars.

“Please, please,” he gasps hazily, having no idea what he’s begging for, but the answering brush of Harvey’s lips on his skin, leaving wet trails all over him, is enough.

It’s a strange rhythm they settle into, Mike arching into him as he jerks him off while Harvey can’t or simply won’t stop touching him, but it works. Effortlessly so. Mike couldn’t say how long it takes before Harvey goes rigid, his teeth digging into Mike’s shoulder as he spends himself, adding to the mess on his belly.

It’s a shame Mike doesn’t get to see his expression as he comes, though it might be for the best. He’s not sure he could have survived that on top of everything else.

His heart is still pounding, a dull and poignant rhythm in his chest that just won’t calm down. Harvey lingers on top of him, maybe trying to catch his breath, possibly just as unwilling to separate from him as Mike is, and he would have happily stayed like this forever, the splatters on his skin be damned.

Harvey eventually lets out a deep breath, easing the tight hold he kept on Mike’s arm to run his hands over his chest, feeling up his neck and jaw as he cradles his body like it’s anything but the wrung-out mess he made of it. Like it’s something precious instead.

“My good boy,” Mike hears him say, the words whispered into his skin like a secret, “my perfect, perfect boy. Do you have any idea…”

He never finishes the question, but Mike is soon distracted by the kisses he leaves along his jaw instead. The gentle touches draw a whimper from him, and his hand digs into Harvey’s arm harder than he intended, but if anything, it only spurs him on. Harvey caresses him endlessly, only easing off to wipe the traces of their release from his belly at one point.

If Mike thought that was going to be the end of it, he was wrong again.

Dropping the tissue carelessly, Harvey returns his attention to the canvas of Mike’s skin, dragging his hands over him in a way that may leave bruises before he lowers his head and resumes the path of his lips.

His kisses are simultaneously the best and worst thing Mike has ever felt in his life. He tries to shut his mind down, tries to stop thinking and wishing and yearning for this to mean what he wants it to and just _feels_.

Harvey is in no rush to finish. The touches eventually fade until all that’s left are his lips on him, tracing the lines he left there, tasting the aftermath of what he created. Harvey’s lips on his collarbone. Harvey’s lips on his shoulder. Harvey’s lips in the hollow beneath Mike’s ribs as he arches his back to get closer.

It never stops. Mike doesn’t even know what this is, if they're still sceneing, if this is Harvey or his dom whispering words into his battered skin, but it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter, because he would follow them both to the ends of the world.

“How does it feel, Mike?” Harvey eventually murmurs, his voice startling him out of the meditative state he has slipped into, and he shakes his head, seeking the words to express even a fraction of what he’s feeling.

All he can find, in the end, is the most basic truth.

“It hurts,” Mike whispers. “It hurts when you touch me.” Harvey's lips trace the tender skin on his chest and he gasps. “It hurts when you kiss me. It hurts...”

He loses track of what he says, of his train of thought, Harvey’s touch taking up all the space in his head. He loses all sense of time, his grasp on reality slipping away until he can no longer tell the beginning from the end, one second from the other, his own body from Harvey’s touching it at so many points that it feels like they’re one.

It may be a scene that is going on a little longer. It may be the world’s most intense aftercare. It may just be something entirely different for all Mike knows, something new they created together, but he doesn’t need to know what it is to succumb to it, and maybe he really loses his mind for a while, or he has already drifted off into a dreamlike haze, because at one point he thinks he can hear Harvey murmur into the quiet, “It hurts when you kiss me too.”

*

Mike stares at the marks on his chest, the mirror reflecting his deep frown. The scratches haven’t faded in the slightest since Harvey left them on him, on the contrary. They are of an almost angry shade of red, drawing his eyes to them like a magnet.

He didn’t notice just how roughly Harvey scratched him at the time, the pain not having registered as such, but some of the marks actually broke the skin. They feel deep enough for Harvey to have left a part of him inside Mike through them.

Rubbing the tip of his finger over the sore weals, Mike grimaces.

He hates them. He hates that he loves them so fucking much, these reminders of what must have been the best high of Mike’s life, only that he didn’t even take anything. It was all Harvey that did this to him, his touch alone that caused this rush, his mere presence looming over him like the world’s most tempting Sword of Damocles.

Never has a reminder from a scene left him with such a bitter taste in his mouth.

He remembers thinking that he’s going to want to remember this when it’s over, and while he was too occupied to follow that train of thought then, he can’t help but acknowledge what’s staring him right in the face now, what’s mocking him from out of the mirror, the bright red marks that are going to fade until no one will ever be able to tell they were there in the first place.

They aren’t the only thing that’s going to fade.

All of this, their whole arrangement, the way Harvey looks at him now, it’s just temporary. It _will_ be over at one point, and sooner rather than later. The six months they put into their contract seemed so far away back then, but now they’re rushing by with frightening speed.

It doesn’t even matter that Harvey never said they would stop once they’re over. Even if they renegotiated, even if they extended the contract, its end is inevitable. However great what Mike has found here is, it can’t last. Sooner or later it’s going to be a thing of the past. He can’t hold on to it forever.

The realization isn’t strictly speaking a new one, but it still hits him like a gut punch.

He thinks of the way he let go entirely last night, how every last inhibition he still had left in him – and there weren’t many to begin with – just melted away under Harvey’s touch.

That man holds too much power over him. Last night was one of the best of Mike’s life, but now he somehow feels lower than ever. He hates the duality of it, the high and the low he just can’t seem to separate when it comes to Harvey.

Mike can let go of everything when he’s with him, but he is not ready to let go of that, not in any way, and he can only pretend that it’s alright for so long.

At what point will that stop being enough?

_You’re such a fucking fool._ Time is running out, and it’s Mike’s own goddamn fault for not keeping an eye on the clock like he knew he should have.

He tries to swallow past the trepidation closing up his throat and barely succeeds. God, the mere prospect of not having this in his life anymore is pulling the rug out from under him.

On the other hand, Mike isn’t feeling all that well in general. Maybe he slept too little, or didn’t hydrate enough after how intense last night was. He rubs his head, trying to locate the lingering headache, but his mind is too hazy to get a grasp of the pain.

Doesn’t matter anyway. Looks like it’s just going to be one of these days.

Opting for the quickest shower possible, Mike gets himself clean. He presses his lips together when his eyes fall on his chest again as soon as he gets out, covering the marks with the towel he’s drying himself off with so he doesn’t have to see them anymore.

He probably should have eaten something already, but Mike can’t for the life of him work up an appetite. He drags himself to the kitchen to at least get some water, making himself drain half the glass as he stares out of his window.

The street below him is alive with people trying to make the most of the weekend. It’s beautiful outside, after all. The sun shines high. It makes Mike want to throw up a little.

There are a dozen different things he should get done today, but he can’t figure out which one’s most important, and so he decides that all of that can wait until tomorrow. Or Monday. Having decided to take the day off, he drops on the sofa to watch something. He sits there for a good five minutes before it occurs to him that he never turned on the TV and he’s just staring at the wall, and then he decides that he might as well continue doing that if he’s at it already.

Closing his eyes provides at least a small relief of the pressure in his head, so he slides down the backrest to take a nap. He dozes off for a while, but deep sleep eludes him, and so he spends his afternoon watching the minutes tick by without doing anything to fill them. He hasn’t had a day this lazy in ages – probably since before he started working for Harvey. It doesn’t feel as nice as he remembers.

Mike is in the middle of reminiscing about the way he used to lounge with Trevor when his phone chimes.

It occurs to him only when he angles for it and reads Harvey’s text, asking how he’s doing, that this low he’s experiencing might not be a creation of his own doing.

He halts, considering the possibility of sub drop with a sense of almost curious detachment.

Is that what this is? Mike has never consciously experienced a drop before, so he can’t say for sure what it feels like, but he knows all the signs by heart. His low mood, the headache, the dizziness, the exhaustion – it all adds up.

It could just as well be lack of sleep or the stress of the past weeks, though. Why should he have gotten sub drop now when he’s never had it before? Maybe he’s just having a bad day. Maybe he’s even coming down with something, who knows.

There is no way to tell which one it is, and Mike decides that it doesn’t matter anyway.

_I’m fine,_ he texts back before he can stop himself, and then drops the phone and continues to not think about it. He ignores the small voice at the back of his head calling him a liar, telling him that he should at least talk to Harvey about this, and switches on the TV after all to fill the silence.

_You’re misdirecting your feelings, Michael,_ his grammy would tell him with her trademark disapproving look if she could see him now. It wouldn’t be unkind, though. It never was.

Mike stifles a sigh. He used to hate when she tried to make him talk about his feelings, but he has to admit that it did make him feel better most of the time. Once she was gone, he started wishing for those times to come back. She always seemed to feel it when something was wrong, like she could sense his troubles somehow.

She would have known just what to say to get him to lighten up now. She would have hugged him even though he would have pretended not to want it at first, and Mike would have inhaled her familiar scent and felt a bit safer.

God, he wishes he could talk to her. He wishes he could tell her about the mess he got himself in, because it may not have changed anything, but he knows that at least he could have trusted her with it, that she would have understood.

Mike grabs his own shoulder, digging his fingers into his skin.

The longer he thinks about his grammy, the worse he feels. He misses her terribly today, and he almost hates himself for it when he realizes that he has barely thought about her at all lately. She didn’t deserve that. She didn’t deserve a lot of what she got, but being forgotten by the one person who swore he would always keep her memory alive, that’s just the cherry on top.

Sounds like him, he thinks bitterly. A disappointment on all fronts.

He entertains the idea of visiting her grave, but the prospect of going outside is too unappealing, so Mike goes to lie down instead. He buries himself under a pile of blankets while he listens to some music and wastes his time aimlessly browsing the internet until his bladder eventually forces him to get up.

He passes the window on his way back. It’s raining now. Mike stares at the drops running down the pane before he turns away in disgust.

As it turns out, it doesn’t really make him feel better.

The rain continues throughout the night and comes and goes all Sunday, giving Mike the perfect excuse not to leave his apartment the entire weekend. Maybe that’s just what he needs, to take some time off to pamper himself and wallow in his heartache.

Self care and all that. It’s a thing, right? Putting on some old movie he knows by heart and living off cereal and cold leftovers that may or may not be edible anymore surely constitutes as such.

He doesn’t really feel better come Monday, but he is determined to get through work without letting whatever this is influence him. He thinks that he’s probably not doing the best job of it when Harvey throws him a suspicious look every now and then, but he pretends not to see it and turns away before he gets the chance to ask.

The fact that he _knows_ Harvey would want him to tell him about this, that he’s breaching their contract by keeping it to himself, only worsens his mood.

The marks on his chest fade more and more with every passing day until he can barely tell that they were there anymore. Mike despises himself for hoping that Harvey is going to leave new ones in their place soon.

*

The silence of the room riles him up. Mike can hear his own breathing, mingling with Harvey’s above it, and while it’s usually a comforting sound, he can hardly stand it today.

To be fair, everything annoys him right now. Because Mike hasn’t just had a bad day, he’s had an entire week, and he has just about reached his limit.

Of course, keeping his distance from Harvey to avoid his scrutinizing gaze also meant that he only got to see little of him since their last scene. On top of that and the stress he’s had at the office, he’s in a right state today.

Funnily enough, being close to Harvey now has yet to make him feel better.

Mike is on his knees before him, trying to find the thrill it usually gives him and coming up empty-handed. He is hyper-fixated on the sounds around him, the hard wood beneath his knees, his own goddamn nakedness that does nothing for him today except exasperate him even further.

“I’ve been looking forward to this,” Harvey is murmuring, but Mike can barely listen to him, never mind actually get in the right mindset to agree. “I have a few things I want to use on you today. You’re going to take everything I give you, won’t you? And I’m going to take my time with it. Do whatever I please with you, for however long I like.”

“Who would have thought,” Mike mutters.

Harvey stops short. “What did you just say?”

There is no heat in his voice, just a hint of surprise at the unexpected statement, because Mike never talks back, and when he does speak, it’s not usually like this.

It makes him want to laugh, only he’s not sure it wouldn’t come out as something more like a scream. He never talks back, does he? He may struggle, he may have to work for it, but he always takes what Harvey gives him. He just takes and takes and takes, every goddamn time, no matter how much it ruins him, no matter how much it hurts, and fuck it, he’s had enough.

_Enough, enough, enough._

“I said,” Mike tells him, raising his eyes to meet Harvey’s, “that it’s not really a surprise with the way you get off on hurting me, is it? _Sir?_ ”

Something passes over Harvey’s face, gone before he can grasp it. He tilts his head as he takes a step towards him.

“I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but I’m sure you see just how disrespectful you’re being to your dom right now. That makes ten points. Do you have anything else to say to me?”

Mike clenches his jaw, stoically staring ahead.

“Very well. I’ll begin with your discipline now. I’ll be adding your punishment right away, so you’d better get ready.”

A bitter response is on the tip of his tongue, but Mike swallows it down, ignoring the way the words choke him as he watches Harvey retrieve his implement like it’s any other day, like Mike didn’t just act up, like he isn’t crawling in his skin with the things he can’t say.

It’s the crop today. Of course it fucking is. Mike went and misbehaved and Harvey is giving him his favorite anyway, like he has done anything at all to deserve it.

Staring at the implement, Mike is swamped by a wave of contempt, for this, for Harvey, for himself. He looks at the mess he’s in and he aches for the time when all he had known of Harvey's touch was the way he'd imagined it to feel in the privacy of his mind. When he hadn't known what it’s like to call Harvey his, even if on borrowed time, if only as make-believe once a week. When he had never loved anyone so deeply that the feeling consumed every last inch of him until there was nothing left.

_You got yourself into this._

And that's the worst part, isn't it? He went into this with his eyes wide open. Willingly. Denial or not, he knew that his feelings for Harvey were too strong to still be platonic, for this to really be a good idea, but he did it anyway. And now he’s stuck in this cycle of getting too much to process and yet always wanting more, and he can’t get out.

_You can stop this. You can call for a stop and end this right now._

He almost laughs at the idea, the sound sticking in his throat until it threatens to suffocate him. Yeah, he could stop this. Of course he could. But Mike knows in the same breath as he thinks it that he is never going to do that.

The realization punches all the air out of his lungs, the fact that he holds the solution in his hands and is too weak to use it, too weak to even entertain the idea of letting this go, no matter how much it kills him, and in the throes of his desperation, Mike clings to the only thing he can still focus on.

Anger.

Mike is so goddamn angry that he could burst with it, and he embraces the blinding heat gladly, lets it fill him up until he is drunk on the feeling, until he _breathes_ resentment and everything else he’s been carrying inside him vanishes.

“Twenty-five strikes,” Harvey’s voice cuts through to him, and it takes Mike a moment to return his focus to what’s going on. He can barely think straight through the red haze in his mind, and it’s only fueled by Harvey’s next instruction.

“Count for me,” he tells him like he always does.

Yeah, Mike really doesn’t feel like doing that.

It’s so fucking ironic, how he keeps track of the pain Harvey inflicts on him, prompting him to go on every time he announces the number. Why the fuck should he just keep doing that?

He inhales sharply when the crop meets his skin somewhere below his shoulders, gritting his teeth.

Harvey waits, but he sticks to his silence, the pain feeling harsher in the growing quiet.

“Mike,” Harvey says, a hint of steel in his voice now. “Count.”

“Fuck you,” Mike spits out.

There’s a beat of silence. Mike winces when the crop comes down on his back again without further warning. Harvey has apparently decided to finish his discipline with or without his cooperation, and Mike endures the strokes that have lost all traces of gentleness, breathing past the mounting pain. He keeps count in his head, of course, and so he already expects Harvey’s voice when it sounds.

“Turn around.”

Mike rolls onto his back, ignoring the way his skin protests.

“I’m disappointed in you, Mike. What’s wrong with you today?”

Mike swallows down the surge of shame that instinctively wells up in him, the sinking sensation that having disappointed his dom, having disappointed _Harvey,_ leaves him with. His reaction only makes him angrier, which is a good thing, because he’d rather focus on that.

“What’s wrong with _me_? I’m not the one between the two of us who hits other people for fun.”

He tries to put as much of his anger as he can into the words, but it doesn’t offer much relief.

Harvey tilts his head, looking at him curiously. Almost amused. Like he can’t make sense of Mike’s behavior, but it fascinates him to watch, to see how far he will go with this. Like all this is a goddamn spectacle. “That makes another ten points.”

It only spurs Mike on.

“See? That’s just what I fucking mean. You’re not even telling me to shut up, because you want me to go on, don’t you? You just want an excuse to fucking hurt me. You’re a twisted, sadistic asshole who gets off on other people’s suffering, and that’s fucked up. You’re fucked up in the head. Do you even realize that?”

He can practically see Harvey adding to his punishment with every word that leaves his mouth, and morbidly, the sight provides him with a grim satisfaction.

Mike wants to ache. He wants to _burn_. A distant part of his brain notes that he is going to regret this later but he doesn't care. He just does not care anymore.

There is absolutely no way of telling what Harvey is thinking when he states calmly, “You’re going to pay for this.”

“Then fucking make me!”

The following silence is deafening. Mike blinks, startled by his own outburst as the reality of what he just did, yelling at his dom, yelling at Harvey, dawns on him. His chest is heaving as he stares at him, towering over him with the crop in his hand like an avenging angel come to bring retribution for his sins.

Mike hears nothing but the pounding of his own heart, his ears ringing hollowly as the silence stretches.

Harvey's face is unreadable when he finally says, “Turn over.”

It's nowhere near being a request and Mike doesn't even consider disobeying. He gets on his stomach, some dark part in him chanting _yes, yes, yes_ to the feral beating of his heart. He can't see Harvey, can't see what he chooses to punish him with, but he doesn't care. He hopes it's the flogger. He wants it to burn.

He hears him move around before he comes to stand in front of him, the beat of silence his only warning before Harvey brings down the implement on him.

It is the flogger.

Turns out that the distant part of his brain was right.

Regret wells up in him the second the searing pain starts blooming on Mike's back. Harvey isn't going lightly on him, clearly done with being patient. Not that he expected anything else, after what he just did.

“Count,” he orders, and Mike grits his teeth.

“One.”

He gasps when the leather strips hit his skin again, almost in the same spot, but it wouldn’t have made a difference anyway. All that registers is the intense stinging sensation ripping through him.

“Two.”

It’s his own fault. He left Harvey no choice but to go there, he wanted him to, and now he has to live with what he brought upon himself. All of this is his own goddamn doing. He just didn’t anticipate how much effort it would take to deal with the consequences.

Then again, he never seems to anticipate the most obvious outcome, does he?

“Three.”

Mike chokes on the cry he’s stifling. The stinging of the flogger has never felt this painful. They are only just getting started – _four, five, six_ , Harvey goes on relentlessly – and already Mike is struggling to cope with the pain, to compartmentalize the intensity or turn it into anything other than pure hurting.

“Seven.”

Tears prickle behind his eyelids when the pain shoots through him again without a second to catch his breath. It costs him everything he has to keep them at bay.

“Mike. Count.”

“Eight,” Mike gets out, his chest heaving, and he barely has time to draw another breath before the flogger hits his burning flesh again.

“N-nine.”

He doesn't acknowledge the wavering of his voice. Neither does Harvey.

He stops counting somewhere after ten, instead focusing on keeping in the cries of pain building in his chest. Harvey doesn't remind him again, accepting the involuntary grunts leaving him at every strike as he goes on, and on, and on.

He stops trying to hold it in after sixteen.

It’s a relief to use his voice, to release the pain in the only way he knows how, but it doesn’t last. There’s another strike, and another close behind, and the ache catches up with him quickly until it fills every part of his mind.

Harvey doesn't berate him for crying out again and again, for finally letting go entirely and screaming himself hoarse. He just gives him more, and more, until it's all Mike can take, until it's too much, and when his pain threshold is exceeded and Mike starts begging for something he doesn't even understand himself he goes on anyway, taking him somewhere he has never gone before.

The pain is everything. Everywhere. His absolute limit has long been crossed, and Harvey must know that, must hear it in his anguished cries, but he still continues, giving him more than Mike has the capacity to process. Maybe he's trying to see how much Mike will take before he snaps, breaks right in the middle. Maybe he's waiting for him to put a stop to this.

Mike doesn't even think about using his safeword.

It's not so much that he's trying to prove something by holding on. The possibility of ending this just never occurs to him, because to Mike, it simply doesn’t exist. This scene, this punishment, the needles piercing his skin every time Harvey brings the flogger down on his bruised back, it’s all there is anymore. It’s all there can be, because without it, Mike is left with nothing.

His entire world has shrunk down to the hurt Harvey keeps giving him, and he struggles to cope with the pain, to process it somehow, until he finally realizes that he can't and just accepts it.

He lets go.

He stops fighting the suffocating feeling in his chest, accepts that the pain has nowhere to go and therefore needs to swallow him whole. He submits to it, feels the burn in every cell of his body as it washes over him and finally pulls him under to somewhere the ache doesn't hurt him, only exists, and he exists around it and within it, and that's right, that's _good_.

Mike makes himself a place there and endures, though it's not even that, not anymore. He just is. Waiting for the pain to cease. Waiting for Harvey to stop. Feeling it in every part of him, over and over and over until it bleeds into one searing red sensation and he starts floating in it.

He flies.

He's crying, he knows he is, distantly aware of the hot trails streaming down his face, but he has no capacity to do anything more than acknowledge it. It's cathartic. It's cleansing. Mike sinks into it until it has engulfed every part of him, rendering anything that isn't the rhythmic beating of his body meaningless. He gives up control of his physical form, loses all sense of himself or the room around him, neither being able to tell how long he's been there nor how much he still has to go.

When he eventually comes back to himself, the strikes have stopped. Must have stopped for a while now. He's still in pain, still aching all over and will continue doing so for a good long while, but it's different now. The immediate sensation is gone.

Harvey has stopped hurting him, has wrapped a blanket around him and pulled him close, his hands caressing him endlessly, and Mike only then becomes aware of the soft murmuring his brain filtered out as white noise before.

He must have made some kind of sound, because Harvey shifts, his hands changing their path as he brushes a few strands of hair out of Mike's forehead.

“Are you back with me?”

He doesn't raise his voice, doesn't break the soft cocoon he has woven around them, and the gentleness of his tone goes straight to Mike's aching heart.

“Think so,” he gets out, his tongue too heavy to respond. He rolls over, the burning shooting through him barely registering. He takes a deep breath as he blinks at the ceiling. Harvey's voice cuts through his efforts to clear the haze in his mind.

“What happened to you, baby? What was that all about?”

Mike can barely focus on the words, barely hears anything other than the term of endearment slipping past Harvey's lips like it's nothing, like he means it, like it means what Mike so desperately wants it to, and because he can't bear to subject himself to that thought any longer, to pretend that it doesn't cut something open within him, he presses his palms against his eyes, his arms heavy and unwieldy, and tries to just breathe.

He doesn't flinch when Harvey immediately moves to follow him, drawn to him like a magnet. His hand touches his shoulder, gently rubbing there, running up and down his arm and Mike can't _bear_ it, craving something so much that kills him at the same time, and the conflicting emotions leave him frozen in place, hopelessly locked into Harvey's orbit.

“You needed to be taken down badly, didn't you?”

Harvey's hand never stops its gentle ministrations, the tenderness of his touch bringing tears to Mike's eyes. He inhales deeply, trying to work past the urge to cry again. He's not even sure he could, as wrung out as he is, but his throat still closes up, still leaves him struggling to just breathe.

It's not fair. It's not fair that Harvey's touch soothes the hurt and rips him open at the same time. It's not fair that Mike went and fell for him and ruined this thing that means so much to both of them. It's not fair that the way Harvey cares for him just isn't enough, that he always craves more, starved for something Harvey can never give him.

It's not fair that, despite everything, Mike just can't _stop._

“Mike, you have to talk to me. You're scaring me. Please.”

Mike shuts his eyes, fighting to keep his composure. It's that last word that nearly does him in, uttered as a last resort, full of desperation and helplessness. He doesn't want Harvey to feel that way. Especially not because of him. He knows he can't just say nothing and hope that he will let this go. Not just because he never would, but because he deserves more than that. He deserves better. He deserves as much of the truth as Mike can give him, no matter how inadequate it is.

Mike pushes himself up, trying not to feel the loss of Harvey's warmth as his hand slips from his shoulder. He winces when he sits up, but the pain helps him focus, grounding him in the moment. It’s still hard to gather his thoughts, but Mike knows how crucial this conversation is. The words he says now might just determine their entire future.

He clears his throat when Harvey sits up as well.

“You said you wanted the truth.”

His voice sounds hoarse and foreign to his own ears. He must have exerted his vocal cords more than he realized.

Harvey is silent. “Yes,” he says, the word cautious, and Mike pulls his knees to his chest, ignoring the burn of his skin as he shifts.

“What if I can't give you the truth? Is that a breach of our contract? If I'm not lying about it, and not hiding it, just not telling you?”

Harvey regards him quietly.

“I'd say it's not a breach of the contract per se, since you're coming clean about it right now, but it does make me wonder if I had the wrong impression of the trust between us.”

Mike winces, hearing the hurt behind Harvey's words loud and clear. It pains him more than anything else he endured today, in an entirely different way. This is all on him. He caused this with his stupid heart bleeding all over the floor. Harvey is probably doubting himself, wondering what he did wrong that Mike _doesn't trust him_. But he did nothing wrong. Harvey did everything just right, so infuriatingly, perfectly right, and Mike is the one who went and screwed it all up.

“It's not like that. I'm sorry, I promise this isn't about you or anything you did. I trust you with my life, Harvey. I know you probably don't believe that now, but it's the truth, I swear.”

Harvey's forehead is creased. Mike hates that he looks so troubled. That he's the one who made him feel that way. That he wants to reach out and smooth over the lines until they disappear.

That he can't.

“Why can't you tell me?”

Mike shakes his head mutely. Harvey makes a frustrated sound.

“This isn't fair, Mike.”

“I know,” Mike agrees quietly. “It's not. And I'm sorry.”

Harvey runs a hand through his hair, giving him a contemplative look.

“Is this something I should be worried about? If you're in trouble, I-”

“I'm not in trouble,” Mike cuts him off, and it's only half a lie, but it still tastes bitter on his tongue. “Not in a legal way or anything. Nothing like drugs or- whatever it is you're probably imagining. That's the truth, I promise. Everything I tell you is the truth. There are just some things I can't say. It's just... personal. I can't give you more than that.”

Harvey takes his time thinking about that, regarding him for so long that Mike feels like he's transparent, that if he looks any longer he will see all of Mike's secrets anyway, whether Mike wants him to or not.

“Then I guess there is nothing I can do about it,” he finally says.

Mike lets out a frustrated breath. “I'm sorry. I really am sorry.” He presses his lips together. “Where does this leave us?”

Because as much as he knows he should stop, as much as he hates himself for it, he can't bear the thought of this ending.

Harvey sucks in his lip, then exhales deeply. “As far as I'm concerned, nothing changes. You were honest about... not being able to be honest, and I may not understand why, but I appreciate that nevertheless. I want to ask you a few questions, though. And I want you to remember that I want the truth. Even if you think I won't like it.”

“Okay.”

Harvey nods, searching his face.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah. More so now than... before. I will be.”

Harvey nods slowly. Mike can't tell if he's content with his answer, but at least he's seeing that he is still making an effort to honor their rule.

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes.”

“Do you feel comfortable continuing this arrangement?”

“Yes,” Mike repeats immediately. “Of course.”

“Would you tell me what’s going on, if your... mental or physical safety was involved?”

He swallows. “Yes. But it's not like that.”

Harvey presses his lips together, but accepts it.

“Do you feel that I am the right dom for you?”

“Yes. Absolutely. Without a doubt.” Mike digs his nails into his palms until his hands shake with the effort. “Harvey, those things I said earlier, I didn’t mean any of them. About you hurting me and… everything. You have to believe me. That’s not- I don’t feel that way about you. I swear.”

Harvey exhales slowly. “Alright.”

Mike waits, and when no more questions come, he asks, “So we go on as before?”

“Yes. We do.”

Mike sighs, the sound betraying his overwhelming relief. Silence reigns in the room, each of them hanging after their own thoughts.

“I believe you,” Harvey finally says. Mike looks up.

“Hm?”

“You said I probably don't believe that you trust me, but I do. I know you do, the same way I trust you. I just wish you trusted me with this.”

Mike really wishes Harvey would stop breaking his heart. He swallows, reaching for Harvey's hand on impulse. Harvey turns it around at his touch, weaving their fingers together.

Mike exhales shakily. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. It feels so fucking inadequate.

Harvey squeezes his hand, if not to convey his understanding, then at least his acceptance, and it would be enough to tear Mike to pieces if he had it in himself to fall apart again.

Harvey is too good to him. He is so much more than Mike deserves, and all he can give him in return is more trouble than he's worth.

But Harvey said that he wants to continue this. Despite Mike’s shortcomings, despite the complications. It’s more than he could have asked for.

They sit there for a while. Mike is conscious of every second he gets to hold Harvey's hand. He eventually withdraws to get out of bed, leaving Mike feeling bereft of something he has no claim over in the first place.

“Where are you going?” he asks, and he hates how needy it sounds, but Harvey just offers a small smile as he glances at him over his shoulder, clearly not minding.

“Getting some chocolate. I think we can both use it.”

He returns soon, leaving no time for the hollowness in Mike’s chest to grow big enough to swallow him up. He hands him a piece after sliding back under the covers. Seventy percent, of course.

“Thank you.”

Harvey just nods, breaking one off for himself too. They share the chocolate until the last piece is gone and Mike feels a little calmer, the bittersweet taste on his tongue lifting his spirits marginally.

He looks up when Harvey leans back, signing Mike to come closer. He doesn't need to be told twice.

He lies down gingerly, more aware of his tender skin now than before. The careful, ever so gentle embrace of Harvey's arms engulfs him at once. He closes his eyes when his lips brush his temple, lingering for the span of a heartbeat. Salt in the wound. At one point it’ll stop making a difference.

Apparently he’s not there yet. It still burns.

It's a special kind of ache, different from anything they do when they're in here together. Right now it just hurts. But he thinks that, in time, he can learn to love that pain too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes... get why there's an "idiots in love" tag now?
> 
> Also, you know the part where Mike thinks about how it took him so long to realize he's in love because he's never loved anyone like this before? I recently discovered "Born to be Yours" by Kygo and Imagine Dragons, and damn. "I never knew anybody till I knew you, and I know when it rains oh it pours, and I know I was born to be yours"... yeah, that one went straight on the playlist for this fic. I haven't been able to stop listening to it ever since. Check it out, we can suffer together.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is where the edgeplay tag comes into effect. You’ll probably see where things are headed as the scene progresses and I promise there are no excessive descriptions of questionable behavior involving bodily fluids (see where I’m going with this), but there’s a small part that might be uncomfortable for some people, so if you’re sensitive or squeamish about that sort of thing, please read the end notes first!

Mike’s head is pounding like he has the hangover of his life when he wakes up. Glancing at Harvey, for once still blissfully asleep with an arm slung around him, the images of last night return to him in a rush, reinforced by the dull ache of his back he is slowly becoming aware of.

Mike shuts his eyes with a groan that is half pain, half desperation.

Now he wishes he really was hungover. At least he would know how to deal with that.

Of course, looking back on the past few weeks, the weight he’s been carrying around with himself, his steadily dropping mood, it’s not all that surprising that he snapped. He just didn’t expect it to be like… that.

Mike holds his breath as he turns over in Harvey’s embrace, careful not to wake him. He looks so peaceful in his sleep. It’s a sight Mike rarely gets to enjoy, usually the first to fall asleep and the last to wake up, and he takes the opportunity to really look at him, immersing himself in the relaxed lines of his face that make him seem impossibly younger.

The sight is so fucking precious that Mike’s heart contracts, and he tries his hardest to commit the image to perfect memory, making sure that he never forgets a single detail.

This time with Harvey, when nothing disturbs them, when Mike can just look and feel without having to hide, it’s the most beautiful, heartbreaking privilege he can imagine having.

He nearly fucked it up last night. Harvey must think that he’s full of shit, going on and on about trust without ever telling him what’s wrong. Mike certainly would in his place. Harvey said that he believes him, but Mike knows he still thinks about what happened. Of course he does.

It’s clear in the way he acts once they’ve gotten up, or at the office on Monday, how every word he says is just slightly too deliberate to be offhanded. It’s subtle, but Mike is so tuned to Harvey that he immediately notices.

What’s worse, though, is the way he treats him during their next scene.

Mike feels it in the brush of his fingers, sees it in his eyes as he takes him in. Harvey is being _careful_ with him. Like he is just the tiniest bit unsure of where they stand with each other. Like Mike might break if he touches him wrong.

If he’s honest with himself – and he’s making an effort with that these days, if he can’t be honest with Harvey already – it kills Mike.

What they have has always been fickle in his eyes, but it never felt this fragile before. He’s scared that the slightest blow is going to shatter it, that Harvey’s faith in him is hanging by the thinnest thread. The only thing he can think of to make things right is to prove somehow that he really does trust him and hope to god that’s enough.

So Mike tries. His determination makes it easy to ask for things he normally wouldn’t, but no matter what he does, it never quite feels like enough. He keeps thinking about what he wants to do, eventually setting his mind on something that makes his heart pound at the mere thought of it. He figures it’s exactly what they need, going through something of that scale together. If this doesn’t work, he doesn’t know what will.

Harvey is not reluctant per se when he puts forward the idea, whispering the words into his skin in the dark of the room, but he takes a long time to reply.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he finally asks.

The question only reinforces Mike’s confidence that it’s the right decision. “I’m sure,” he confirms, running his thumb over Harvey’s collar bone steadily. “I want to do this with you. I want us to experience that together.”

Harvey takes a quiet breath before he nods. He takes Mike’s hand in his, mimicking his gesture.

“Then we’ll do it,” he says.

Mike exhales in relief. Closing his eyes, he murmurs, “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do with you.”

Harvey’s finger brushes his pulse as he mutters, “I know, baby.”

They don’t mention it again during the week, but Mike trusts that Harvey is taking care of everything because, if he’s honest, he only has a vague idea of what he’s getting himself into. But that doesn’t matter.

He trusts Harvey. That’s what this is all about.

Mike sees that Harvey did his part as soon as he steps into the bedroom that night, his eyes falling on the dresser right away.

Once he’s on his knees, Harvey asks, “Are you still certain that you want to do this? I won’t think less of you if you changed your mind.”

“I’m certain, Sir,” Mike says, making sure to meet his eyes so he can see that there’s no hesitation in them.

Harvey regards him quietly before he steps in, lifting his chin with his finger. His thumb cradles his jaw. Mike’s heart gives a painful jolt.

“You’re safe with me. Always. I promise you that.”

“I know, Sir.”

Harvey keeps looking at him, brushing his cheek before he withdraws.

“Your discipline first. Get on the bed.”

Mike moves, trying to calm his racing heartbeat.

“Twenty strikes,” Harvey announces, stepping closer. After his punishment from last time, the number seems vanishingly small. “Count.”

The implement connects with his back – the cane, from the feeling of it – and Mike dutifully announces the number, gasping at the momentum. The familiar pain gives him something to focus on, to channel his excitement into, and he lets himself fall into the rhythm, riding out the waves of the sharp stings.

Harvey’s hand glides over his back once the final stroke has landed, tracing what Mike knows are the bruises his punishment left behind. They still haven’t faded. “You took that very well. How do you feel?”

“Good, Sir.”

Harvey’s fingers caress his sides. “Are you ready?”

Mike nods avidly. “I am.”

Instead of giving a reply, Harvey turns around. Mike’s breath speeds up at the sight of the knives he carries over to the nightstand. He lights a candle, putting it down where Mike can’t accidentally knock it over before he turns back to him, his gaze thoughtful.

“Do you trust me? You will not be punished for being honest. You will be punished if you aren't.”

“I do, Sir. I trust you.”

Harvey holds his eyes before he reaches for one of the knives. The blade is small, looking rather dull from Mike’s perspective, but his heart rate picks up anyway as soon as Harvey’s fingers close around the handle.

It’s still a knife, nothing he’d want near him under normal circumstances, and no matter how inconspicuous it looks, this feels monumental.

If Harvey doesn’t hear his breath going faster, he must see something in his face because he asks again, “Do you trust me?”

“Yes.”

Harvey only tears his eyes from his at the last second when he lowers the blade to Mike’s body. He doesn’t even touch him at first, holding the flat edge close to his chest before he lets it meet his skin.

The cool touch takes all the air out of Mike’s lungs. He resists the urge to gasp, feeling the instinctive need to lie as still as possible as his eyes fixate on the metal. Harvey mirrors him, doesn’t shift a muscle as he stares at him, giving both of them time to adjust. Finally, he moves the knife.

“Is this alright?”

Mike nods, too caught up in the moment to speak, but Harvey stops at once.

“Use your words, Mike. I need to know that you’re alright with this.”

“I am,” Mike makes himself say, forcing a deep breath into his lungs. “I’m alright, Sir.”

Harvey gives him another scrutinizing look before he moves again. The pressure of the blade is almost nonexistent, barely enough for Mike to grasp, but the whisper of the sensation is enough to make his head swim.

Harvey moves slowly, so slowly, running the flat edge along his body like a feather, teasing at the touches rather than actually executing them.

“This alright?”

“Yes, Sir.”

His voice is rough, but neither of them pays attention to it. Mike can focus on nothing but the knife, its mere presence flooding his veins with adrenaline.

Harvey never strays from the careful side, never once moves in a way that makes Mike flinch. He’s sure that Harvey can read his every thought from his body, but he keeps repeating the question anyway, leaving no room for doubt that Mike is still on board with this as he trails along his skin. Time is rendered meaningless as he explores Mike’s body with the blade, leaving goosebumps in his wake. He realizes that he’s breathing heavily at some point, though he has no idea when he started.

“Still good?”

“Yes.”

Harvey’s chest is heaving too, staring at him so intently that his vision must be blurring. His voice is low and rough, the sound thrilling Mike nearly as much as the game they’re playing.

“Are you scared?”

“Yes.”

There’s no hesitation. He doesn’t even think about lying.

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes.”

It’s the truth. Mike is not sure he could put it into words, but it’s the absolute truth nevertheless, and he is relieved that Harvey doesn’t question it. The mere presence of the knife evokes a primal fear in him, making his palms sweat and his heart race, but the response is purely physical, playing on instincts he couldn’t shut down if he tried. It doesn’t mean that he feels unsafe with Harvey in any way, that he believes even for a second that he may use the power he holds over Mike to hurt him.

Harvey is never going to let harm come to him. If there is one thing Mike believes in, it’s that.

He doesn’t know what his eyes betray when Harvey meets them, but something in his face softens, and even though neither of them forgets about the knife lingering at Mike’s hip, they both come to a brief halt as they look at each other.

Harvey’s gaze is dark and intense, and Mike is left hopelessly locked into it, knowing full well that he could drown in it if Harvey kept this up, if he just went on and never stopped. Because Mike sure as hell won’t. He wouldn’t know how, anyway.

Something passes between them that grows with every second they don’t look away, something Mike struggles to put into words, but knows in his heart he has never felt with another person and never could. It’s the duality of fear and trust, of knowing that your safety is in another person’s hands while having utter faith that they would die before they let something happen to you. It expands in his chest until he can barely breathe.

A small eternity passes before Harvey breaks their gaze and withdraws the knife, giving Mike a second to compose himself.

“You’re doing so well,” he tells him, caressing his chest with his flat hand. “I’m so proud of you, baby. You take it so beautifully.”

“Thank you, Sir,” Mike whispers.

Something flickers over Harvey’s face that makes him lean in, pressing his lips to Mike’s forehead. He must hear his breath hitching, must feel the heat rushing to his face, but he merely draws back and murmurs, “Are you ready for more?”

 _More_ is fairly vague, but Mike just nods.

“I trust you,” he tells him without having to be prompted. Harvey brushes his hair in silent praise.

There’s a box on the nightstand that he opens next, holding the knife into it for a few seconds. When it returns, the blade is so bitingly cold that Mike flinches. That answers the question of what’s inside.

“How does that feel?”

Mike lets out a shaky chuckle. “Cold.”

Harvey huffs out a quiet laugh too, and they both smile when their eyes meet.

“Good cold?” Harvey asks, watching closely as he runs the blade down Mike’s arm.

“Very good, Sir,” Mike agrees. Harvey dips the knife into the ice again, making him sigh. His fingertips, drenched in cold water, drag across his skin, leaving a wet trail that makes Mike’s hair rise.

Harvey never slips, never gives the impression that his focus is wavering for a single second, but the fact that Mike is safe and he knows it, that the danger of the scene is purely psychological and nothing is going to happen to him, doesn’t take anything from the experience at all.

It’s not the instinctive fear that turns him on. It’s something about the way Harvey handles the emotion that is inevitably tied to this practice, how he plays on it without ever relying on the feeling to do all the work for him.

Mike doubts it would feel this good with anyone else, though he knows that he is never going to find out. No matter what happens once their six months are up, this is not something he could ever have with anyone else after Harvey.

No one could ever come after him. Harvey is so many things to Mike, so much more than he can word, and there is no way he is ever going to feel that way about somebody else. No, this is a once in a lifetime thing.

Mike may not be it for Harvey, but there isn’t a shred of doubt in his mind that Harvey is for him.

They work so well together, the two of them. Why they couldn’t work on that level too, Mike has no idea.

The bleak train of thought is interrupted when Harvey suddenly withdraws the knife, dropping it into the ice before he picks up another one. Mike’s breath catches when Harvey holds the blade into the flame of the candle. He must have made a noise because Harvey looks at him, but neither of them speaks, and there is no need to, really.

The light from the ceiling breaks on the blade when Harvey turns it over and rolls up his sleeve, swiftly pressing it against his own skin.

Mike gasps involuntarily, but Harvey doesn’t make a sound, doesn’t as much as flinch as the metal nestles against his flesh. His eyes are on Mike’s when he asks, “Do you trust me?”

Mike nods mutely.

When Harvey takes the knife away, the pale skin of his wrist has turned to an angry red. He lets another few seconds pass before he lowers the knife to Mike’s body, so it must have really hurt.

The sudden burn on his hip is almost enough to distract him from that thought, but not quite. The pain sets in a second after the blade touches him, and he can’t help the delayed moan slipping past his lips, but Harvey doesn’t look like he minds, on the contrary. His pupils are blown wide as he watches him, almost pitch black with desire.

“That’s it,” he utters, so quietly that he almost can’t hear it. “Beautiful. You’re doing so amazing, Mike.”

Mike whimpers. Harvey runs his hand along his side, melting the tension he’s holding in his body. He takes the knife away, the cool air easing the burn before he touches it to his chest, dragging it down inch by inch. Mike lies utterly still, watching it breathlessly.

The knife disappears and returns a couple of times, hurting a little less each time as the heat subsides.

“You ready for more, baby?” Harvey murmurs, and Mike nods hazily. He’s past the point of really thinking about it anymore, of considering concepts like too little or too much or even putting a stop to this. His perception has shrunk down to the sensations his body is experiencing, to Harvey providing them, and all he can still do in that small room that makes up his entire world is to let it happen and just feel it.

It’s liberating, to have everything else fall away for once, to be stripped of the thoughts and restrictions running through his head at all times. But not in here, not when he’s like this, when Harvey is taking his burdens from him and replacing them with others he knows how to handle, that hold warmth and care and affection at their core.

It’s the only time Mike can breathe freely anymore.

Taking the time Harvey uses to prepare whatever he has planned next, he lets his eyes roam over his features. The dark intensity in his gaze never wavers as he holds the knife into the flame. His hair is messy, several strands out of place like someone has pushed into them.

To distract himself from the desire to do just that, Mike moves on to his chest. The top two buttons of his shirt are undone, as if he expected to get hot. His left sleeve is still rolled up, the asymmetry of his attire catching Mike’s eye.

Objectively he’s a mess, deliciously disheveled in a way that betrays just how affected he is, and Mike doesn’t know if it’s despite or because of it that he radiates pure dominance.

It’s insane how much raw power and yet undeniable, beautiful imperfection he embodies. This Harvey is so human, so complex and intriguing and captivating in his very existence, and it makes Mike weak in the knees to just look at him. He wants to dig his hands into him until nothing can ever make him let go again. He wants to drop down at his feet and worship this divine part of him, but he yearns to immerse himself in the human side of him too, to take all the messy parts and put them back together and maybe leave some pieces of himself in between so that Harvey can never, ever get them out.

His eyes snap back up when Harvey draws back from the flame. He sees him pick up the knife from the box again while he waits for the metal to cool down, but it only registers when he brings both of the knives down on Mike’s skin and suddenly his entire nervous system is on fire.

The sensation is overwhelming. Harvey wields the blades like they are attached to him, following the lines of Mike’s body in a strange and unpredictable pattern, but he can barely focus on it. His brain simply shuts down at the two competing sensations. He is overly aware of the smallest details, like the wet trail one of the knives leaves on him or the quiet sizzle the flame makes when the air moves. They are all he can process at this point, because looking at the whole is more than he can handle.

“How does it feel, Mike?” Harvey murmurs, and Mike just shakes his head, because there is no way in hell he can put what he’s experiencing into words. The right vocabulary for it just doesn’t exist.

“Is that good, hm? Do you like that?”

“I love it, Sir,” Mike gets out, the only truth he can still hold on to, and Harvey presses one of the knives against him in response, shifting his focus to the icy touch as he drags it down his hip.

The slick coldness is in stark contrast to the warmth Harvey emits, which is different from the burn the first knife leaves yet again. Mike writhes on the bed, grasping at the sheets, beside himself with arousal and that tingling sensation of floating freedom that only Harvey gives him.

It’s the most intense Harvey’s touch has ever felt on him, and that’s saying something. It’s levels above the absolute limit of what Mike is able to process, and all he can do is lie there and take it, feel the sensation that is swallowing him up.

But Harvey isn’t done yet. When Mike thinks he won’t be able to go any further, Harvey takes another step anyway, never giving him a second to rest.

Eventually the knives adjust to Mike’s temperature, and Harvey puts one of them aside to swing a leg over Mike’s body.

“Gorgeous,” he murmurs as he crawls over him, kissing along Mike’s collar bone. He’s still holding the other knife, and he trails the blade over the path he just left with the barest pressure. “You have no idea how intoxicating you are like this. How good you’re being for me.”

Mike swallows against the lump in his throat, not bothering to blink away the wetness gathering in his eyes.

“My pretty boy. I want to make you mine. Entirely mine. I want to cut you open and see what’s inside you.”

 _It’s yours_ , Mike wants to tell him. _It’s all yours._

“I want you to,” he whispers, his voice rough when he digs his hands into Harvey’s shoulder as if he could physically make him follow through on his words. It doesn’t matter how impossible they are, how reality could never match this fantasy they’re creating. He feels it as acutely as he feels every touch of Harvey’s hands, wants it to be true with every fiber of his being.

“Yeah?” Harvey breathes out, the word hot on Mike’s skin. Mike gasps when he grazes his nipple with his teeth, his hand sliding into his hair without his conscious decision, but staying still is beyond his capability, and Harvey doesn’t reproach him for it, just soothes the ache with a brush of his lips.

“Yeah,” he sighs, nodding hazily. His grip tightens when Harvey leaves a trail of wet kisses down his sternum. “Please, please, Sir…”

Harvey licks over his stomach. The knife isn’t far behind, gliding over his skin lightly, a hint of what Harvey could do with it, and the make-believe danger is enough to make his heart race. He would flinch, would writhe with the adrenaline if Harvey’s hand on his waist wasn’t anchoring him in place, if keeping still wasn’t of the utmost importance.

“What do you want, baby? Tell me what you want.”

“I want more,” Mike whispers, having no idea what more even looks like anymore, only knowing that he needs it. “Please, give me more.”

Harvey’s chest heaves against him, his breath coming fast and hard as his fingers tighten on the knife. He drags it down slowly, and Mike can’t help but gasp when he scrapes the skin ever so slightly, leaving the most delicious burn in his wake.

“Like that? You want more?”

Mike’s mouth is so dry that he has to swallow twice before he can reply.

“Yes.”

Harvey doesn’t react to the croaking of his voice, doesn’t even seem to pick up on it. His eyes are fixed on the tip of the knife as he sits up, making sure he has a steady grip before he puts the blade a little above the first scratch to leave a longer one.

His eyes are dark when he glances up at Mike.

“How’s that? You want me to do this?”

Mike whimpers, grabbing at the sheets desperately. The burn is exquisite, intoxicating as it mixes with the adrenaline running through his veins. Staying still is the hardest thing he has ever done in his life.

“Yes, Sir. Please. I want it. I want…”

He’s babbling, the words slipping past his lips without his permission, but Harvey drinks them in hungrily, his eyes fixed on Mike’s face before they drop back to the knife, his lips parting with desire. He steadies Mike’s shoulder as he sets out to cover his entire chest in scratches, applying just enough pressure to let the stinging heat spread until a sob rips through him that he couldn’t have held back any longer. Tears leak from his eyes, running down his temple, but he has long stopped caring or even noticing them.

Harvey stills at once, though he never takes the knife away. Running his hands down his arm, his waist, touching him everywhere, stimulating the scrapes he left on him until Mike is burning with pain and the overwhelming desire to get closer, he breathes out, “You like that? Is this what you want? You want me to mark you? To make you mine?”

Mike is too caught up in the moment to find his voice. The knife is always on him somewhere, but it barely registers anymore, the sensations swimming together into one dazing whirlwind pulling him under.

Harvey doesn’t wait for an answer. The knife is back on his chest, sitting right below his sternum. The blade presses into him, this close to breaking the skin.

Mike’s eyes meet Harvey’s, and even though they are both in a haze, they understand each other perfectly.

“Do you want this, Mike?”

He nods, and Harvey exhales quietly, the hot air ghosting over his skin as he leaves a trail of kisses that has Mike’s heart stuttering.

“Hold still, baby,” Harvey murmurs, waiting until Mike has inhaled shakily before he raises the knife.

“That’s it, just like that,” he praises, brushing the flesh with his thumb. The blade is millimeters away from him. “Be still for me.”

He turns the knife, pressing the tip into Mike’s skin. Mike doesn’t dare to breathe. His heart is racing as he stares at Harvey with parted lips, at the point where the knife touches him, seconds away from leaving a cut.

He is hyperaware of the weight of Harvey’s body on top of his, the warmth he emits that mingles with his own, the rhythm of his breathing as he moves so agonizingly slow. He matches his own breath to his as he watches in silence, transfixed by what he can clearly see is happening to his body, but has no capacity to process anymore.

The blade digs into the softness of his flesh. His skin gives way, relenting more and more the harder Harvey presses until it can’t withstand the strain any longer and finally breaks.

Mike’s ears are ringing as they both watch the single drop of blood pool around the tip.

It's only because his own breath hitches that he hears Harvey's doing the same, and neither of them moves as they stare at the deep red.

This is his blood, Mike thinks hazily. This is what keeps him alive, what runs through his veins, and now it’s out there, because of Harvey, _for_ Harvey, and it’s not something he ever would have thought of doing, but it’s the most appropriate act he can think of now, to bleed for the man he loves so much that it hurts to just breathe.

Now he truly belongs to Harvey.

The drop of blood reflects the light from the ceiling as it accumulates and then, finally, comes to a halt.

It’s the farthest they go, the absolute limit that by some unspoken agreement neither of them tries to cross anymore. Harvey withdraws the knife, and though nothing about his body language indicates it, Mike can tell that he is just as shaken as he is.

He hears the dull thud as the knife hits the sheets, but his eyes are fixed on Harvey, who can’t seem to stop staring at him. When he manages to tear his gaze from the cut, it’s only for a brief glance at his face, his expression so open and full of awe that Mike’s breath catches.

Harvey lowers his head to kiss a line along his ribs. One of his hands holds Mike possessively while the other slides over his chest, grazing the faint marks he left there. He stops at the cut, holding his breath as he runs his thumb over it, smearing the blood on his skin. Mike’s mouth falls open when he repeats the movement with his lips, dragging them across the stain before his tongue darts out.

“Fuck,” Mike chokes out, his entire brain stopping short at the image of Harvey licking up what is an integral part of him, as if trying to make it part of him too.

The sound only spurs Harvey on. He flattens his tongue and drags it up his skin, gathering the smudged blood. He finally sits up, just when Mike thought he couldn’t take another second of this, holding his gaze as he licks his lips.

He doesn’t speak, but Mike doesn’t expect him to, knowing that there can be no words to describe what just transpired between them. Without quite meaning to, he reaches out to touch Harvey’s cheek, the tip of his finger brushing his lip where there must still be traces of him.

Harvey lets him explore, giving him the moment to process. He doesn’t move, just looks at Mike, and when he finally lowers his hand with a quiet sigh, he leans in to press his lips to his forehead again. He lingers there before he draws back, cupping his cheek gently.

“Are you alright?”

Mike clears his throat, but his voice is still rough. “I’m fine, Sir. I’m great. I’m…”

“You’re perfect,” Harvey finishes, and the whisper is so tender and affectionate that anything Mike could have said in reply sticks in his throat.

“Stay here,” Harvey says, smiling softly. “I’ll get something to clean you up.”

Mike nods drowsily, watching Harvey grab some cotton pads and disinfectant from the drawer. There wasn’t much blood to begin with, the single cut too small to cause much of a mess, but he takes his time regardlessly, making sure that the scratch is clean.

Mike wonders if he always keeps the disinfectant close or if he planned on taking things this far. It didn’t _feel_ planned, more like something they decided on together in that moment. He probably put it there just in case. Sounds like him, making sure he is prepared for all eventualities when it comes to Mike’s safety. The thought makes him smile, and when he catches Harvey’s eyes, he returns it.

“How does it feel?” he asks when he’s done, brushing Mike’s arm.

“Fine. It doesn’t hurt at all.”

“Good. Then let’s take care of those other scratches before we get you nice and warm.”

He reaches for the lotion on the nightstand, applying it all around the miniscule wound. It’s quiet as he rubs the balm into his skin in soothing circles, and Mike happily sinks into the peaceful atmosphere as he lets Harvey pamper him in his usual, heartbreaking, completely over the top way.

The adrenaline is slowly leaving his body, a bone-deep exhaustion spreading in his limbs instead, and by the time Harvey is done, he feels blissfully sated and warm.

The mattress shifts when Harvey gets up to dispose of the pads and the bottle, taking the knife out of Mike’s reach as if he might accidentally hurt himself.

Granted, with how sluggish he is, that may actually happen.

Mike closes his eyes as he exhales deeply and struggles to open them again. He feels way too spent for how little they actually did. Most of what transpired tonight was on a purely mental level, but the exercise in trust was more intense than many of the physical things they have done together.

Harvey’s eyes roam his chest when he returns before he looks up, cupping his jaw lightly.

“You've been so good for me. Such a good boy. You made me so proud, Mike.”

His fingers brush along the cut, careful not to actually touch it. The slight increase of pain makes Mike’s breath hitch.

“Thank you, Sir,” he gets out. Harvey’s expression softens at the tremor in his voice.

“Thank _you,_ ” he murmurs. “My perfect boy. You’re doing so good for me. I want to give you something as a reward. Is there anything you want? Just ask for it, baby. I’m feeling very generous right now.”

Mike sucks in his lip as he contemplates his possibilities. He knows what he could ask for, what Harvey expects of him. The privilege to come, a reduction of his punishment the next time he earns it, even sex in general, but that's not what he’s after. None of that comes even close to what he truly, desperately wants. He knows that’s something he can’t ask for, or shouldn’t at the very least, but the yearning is there, and suddenly it’s so overwhelming that he can’t ignore it any longer.

He doesn't know what ultimately drives him to look Harvey directly in the eye and request, “A kiss.”

The words are out before he can properly think them through, hanging in the air between them, but now that they are said, Mike can’t bring himself to regret them. The memories of the last time Harvey’s lips touched his are still fresh in his mind, and even though it hurts more than Mike can say, he can’t help but desperately crave another. Even if it’s just one more. Even if it doesn’t mean the same to Harvey as it does to him.

It doesn’t matter. He just needs to kiss him one more time.

His breathing is loud in the quiet room. Harvey looks at him for so long that Mike grows fidgety beneath his gaze, beginning to wonder if he’s going to react at all.

He swallows when he takes his hand from his chest, shifting to get closer. His tongue darts out to lick his lips, and then he cups his cheek, leans in, and kisses Mike over the pounding of his heart.

Everything stops for a brief moment before the world starts spinning again, but Mike can’t pay attention to it, can’t focus on anything but the way his mouth fits so perfectly against his, the warmth of Harvey’s lips on his own.

He still tastes the same. There is no chocolate this time, nothing sweet or bitter diverting his attention from what’s uniquely Harvey’s. Mike recognizes him instantly. He would recognize him anywhere.

He raises his hand without conscious thought, just knowing that he wants to be closer, that he wants _more_. He cups his cheek as well, and when Harvey makes a quiet sound, his fingers tighten and his lips part on instinct.

Harvey welcomes him at once, opening his mouth to let him in, and the low groan he lets out when their tongues meet shakes Mike to the core. It’s hot and messy, utterly intoxicating, and Mike just _knows_ that he will never get enough of this. It’s the only thought he can still form, his entire world narrowed down to the way Harvey moves against him, how their lips slide together so smoothly where they connect.

It’s like the kiss stitches him back together, only to rip him apart in an entirely new way.

It could last forever, but it doesn’t. Mike so desperately wants it to, but one second Harvey is there and the next he’s gone, ending the kiss too soon, and Mike exhales shakily and lets himself be guided down and pulled to his chest like he always does, pretending that it doesn't break his heart.

*

Harvey shuts his eyes. He takes a deep breath before he asks, deliberately keeping his voice calm, “What the hell do you mean, Peterson sold half his shares?”

“I mean exactly what I just told you,” Jessica says, sounding as annoyed as he feels. “Don’t look at me like that, I’m not the idiot who gave up half of his life’s work only to decide that he wants it back the next day.”

Harvey suppresses a groan.

“Well, he can’t. He fucked up, now he’s got to deal with the consequences.”

“No,” Jessica corrects, “he fucked up and now _we’ve_ got to deal with the consequences. This is one of our biggest clients, Harvey. If he asks us to do something, we don’t question it. We do it.”

“He _was_ one of our biggest clients, until he sold half of his goddamn company,” Harvey mutters darkly, sighing at the look Jessica gives him. “Fine. I’ll take care of it.”

She nods. “Use all the resources you need,” she instructs. “If there is any way to get him those shares back I want you to find it, and I want you to find it fast.”

“You know I will,” Harvey gives back, sounding more confident than he feels even though he knows she can see right through him.

“Keep me updated,” is all Jessica says before she turns and leaves.

Harvey grits his teeth, then asks, “You heard her?”

“Every word,” Donna confirms through the intercom.

“Good. Then tell Mike to get his ass over here as soon as possible. And find me another associate or a paralegal. We’re gonna need a few people working on this.”

“Or just the best,” Donna says, already dialing when she tells him, “I’ll get you Rachel.”

“Right,” Harvey mutters after a beat that she thankfully doesn’t notice.

“What’s up?” Mike asks when he strides into his office, balancing a stack of folders. “If this is about Harris and Payton, I was just about to-“

“Forget about that, something else came up,” Harvey cuts him off. He rubs his temple. They had enough on their plate as it was, and he has no idea how they will handle everything, but just seeing Mike offers a small relief of the tension building in his skull. It settles something in him, knowing that they’ll work their way through this together. They always do.

“Oh. More important than that? What is it?”

Harvey gives him a brief explanation, ignoring the way his mood drops further when Rachel appears in the doorway just as he finishes.

“You wanted to see me?”

_Not particularly._

“We have a case,” he tells her. “I need you to go over every precedent you can find that could help us call off a perfectly legal deal. Ask Donna for the details and then get to work, we have a lot to do.”

Rachel nods, adding with a glance to the side, “Or I could ask Mike.”

“No, I need him with me.”

He feels Mike’s eyes on him, but before he can say anything, Rachel smiles. “Right. Donna it is, then. I’ll be in the library if you need me.”

“Sure,” Harvey says dryly.

“I thought I was supposed to go through those precedents as well,” Mike remarks when she’s gone.

“I changed my mind. You’re staying here with me, we can bounce ideas off each other.”

Mike nods. “Fine by me,” he declares with a shrug, dropping down on the sofa. He lifts an eyebrow when he catches Harvey looking.

“I didn’t say anything about lounging,” he says, unable to help the smile tugging at his lips when Mike chuckles.

“Yeah, you never do, but when has that ever stopped me?”

“Sadly, what I say or don’t say doesn’t stop you from doing anything.”

“Except sometimes,” Mike points out without looking up from his folders, but even so Harvey can see him smirking.

“Except sometimes,” he agrees.

“You wouldn’t want it any other way,” Mike teases.

“Did I give you permission to take a break? Get back to work,” Harvey shoots back, the grin on Mike’s face telling him that he isn’t fooled in the slightest.

He purses his lips to hide his smile, then stifles a sigh as he returns his attention to the task at hand. This is going to take ages, if they get anywhere with it at all, and there are about a dozen things he would rather do with his Tuesday night than spend it at the office.

Still, the lightness that their banter brought with it stays, and diving into the masses of paperwork ahead of him is considerably more bearable with Mike by his side.

It’s true, what he said earlier, and Harvey is glad that he knows it. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

*

“You took that very well,” Harvey murmurs. Mike’s heart pounds along to the praise, his back still thudding from the strikes of the paddle. The dull sensation fades slowly, letting him savor the sweet aftermath as his body hurries to provide him with relief.

Harvey traces the red imprints on his back, momentarily increasing the pain.

“You needed that, didn’t you?”

Mike nods. He gladly would have taken one of the sharper implements today, perhaps even the flogger, just to get out of his head for a while, but Harvey knows exactly how to use the paddle to give him what he’s after. The lingering ache has freed his mind from all thoughts of the case, allowing him a moment of blissful peace.

“I could tell. Because I think we can both use the distraction, I thought of something special for the second part of our scene.”

Mike’s eyes snap to his, but he just gives him a secretive smile. “You’ll see. Get on your back.”

Mike rolls over at once, hissing at the stretch of his tender skin. Harvey licks his lips before he turns to the drawer. He returns with the handcuffs, holding them out for Mike to see.

“Alright?”

Mike nods, putting his hands above his head without needing to be prompted. Harvey smiles a little as he steps in, holding them in place. He cuffs him to the bed, then brushes his wrists, eyes on his face as he asks, “Give me a color.”

He’s still thinking about the time he freaked out. Of course he is. Mike’s heart contracts with the surge of affection welling up in him.

“Green, Sir.”

Harvey’s eyes linger on his before he nods.

“I’m going to let you come today,” he announces as he straightens, pausing before he adds, “eventually.”

Mike blinks, watching him retrieve a new implement from the drawer. His heart rate picks up when he lays eyes on the single tail, his skin already tingling in anticipation of the sharp pain.

“I’ll be getting you off while using this on you. You may come at any time.” The corner of Harvey’s mouth lifts. “If you can.”

He gets on the bed, settling on his thighs. The weight of him almost distracts Mike from the proximity of his crotch to his own, but not quite.

“God, you’re so responsive,” Harvey murmurs, tilting his head as he runs the whip along Mike’s jaw. “I haven’t even touched you yet, and look how eager you are already.”

Mike swallows. There’s no need to look at his cock to know what he means. He got hard as a rock the moment Harvey announced he would get him off, and his arousal has only spiked with the close contact of their bodies.

“Do you want me to do this?”

He inhales sharply when Harvey wraps his hand around him, falling into a steady rhythm at once. He has gotten Mike off enough times to know what drives him crazy, and he wastes no time with foreplay as he gives him what he needs.

“Or do you want this?”

The sharp pain of the single tail is already blooming across his chest when the quick movement of his arm registers. The conflicting sensations assaulting him leave Mike gasping.

Harvey smiles.

“What was that? Hm? You want that?”

He doesn’t seem to mind that Mike is too busy trying to catch his breath to respond. He resumes the strokes of his cock, idly watching the blood rise to the surface where he hit him.

Mike yelps when he changes his pace without warning, giving his cock a rough tug that brings tears to his eyes.

“That what you like?” Harvey murmurs, squeezing until Mike is ready to beg before his hand falls away, the sudden shift sending him reeling.

“Or rather like this?”

He strikes Mike’s chest twice in quick succession, the whimper falling from his lips in response only making him hum.

It’s so much to deal with at once, so many contrary impressions fighting for his attention. Mike can barely tell his head from his toes, his body from Harvey’s lingering above him. He is leaking already, dizzy with the arousal buzzing in his system.

“No, I think it’s like this,” Harvey muses, the whip ghosting over his chest while he wraps his hand around him again, twisting his wrist just right to distract him from the sting. His strokes are relentless, wasting no time after the prolonged absence as he provides him with the exact friction he needs.

Mike is ready to go off in no time. He cries out with every stroke, the mix of pain and arousal more than he can deal with, because Harvey may play around, but at the end of the day he knows exactly what it takes to bring Mike to the edge.

He also knows what it takes to pull him back.

The groan he draws from Mike as he eases off right before he can give in to the tightening in his guts has Harvey chuckling, like it’s the most endearing sound he has ever heard. He tuts at the pleading look he gives him, smiling when he says, “Not yet, baby. Not yet.”

That’s when Mike realizes what this is about. He _will_ get him off, eventually. But not before he hasn’t taken his time with it. Not before he hasn’t played with him to his heart’s content.

Mike drops his head with a groan, settling in for a long night.

“Giving up already?”

Harvey’s hand slides between his legs, pulling a little on his balls before he withdraws to caress the soft skin of his thighs. The proximity to his cock drives Mike insane. His fingers grasp the sheets tightly in an attempt to release the tension somehow, but to no avail.

“No, I didn’t think so. That’s my good boy. Always so eager. Always so ready for it, ready to take what I give you.”

The next strike lands without warning, but it mixes with a delicious brush of Harvey’s thumb across his glans, gathering the liquid that has formed at the tip. The sting heightens the arousal simmering in him, as if Mike wasn’t lost to it already, and so he misses it again when Harvey wields the whip to paint another searing red line on him.

Doesn’t matter. The hurt is eased at once when he spreads the wetness on his shaft, providing him with a friction that somehow manages to drown out the sharp pain and leave him only with the pleasure.

Harvey really does know what he’s doing.

It makes the second time he brings him to the brink of orgasm before pulling him back bearable, since at least Mike is getting such an exquisite treatment out of it. The third time, barely.

By the fourth time he is so far past the point of being able to appreciate his skillful teasing that he only growls when Harvey cantingly asks what he wants, a response that amuses him greatly.

Mike is this close to coming, this close to losing his mind because Harvey just won’t let him. A thin sheen is forming on his skin as he struggles to compensate for his frustration, but if anything, the sight only spurs Harvey on.

“Are you enjoying yourself, baby?” he asks, wiping a drop of sweat from his temple. At his expression, he just laughs. Mike would give him a reproachful look, but the vibrations of the sound feel so good that he chooses to focus on that instead.

Harvey is still chuckling. “I think you are.”

Mike groans. He would hate this man if he didn’t love him so fucking much. If he didn’t make him feel so goddamn good, even when he’s torturing him.

Harvey is clearly enjoying this game of _how long does it take to make Mike lose his mind_ , showing no inclination to stop anytime soon.

“You have no idea how much I love playing with you,” he tells him over his ragged breathing, holding Mike on the edge for a deliciously stretching moment before he inevitably pulls back, leaving him whimpering.

“It must be a lot, Sir,” Mike chokes out, and Harvey chuckles again and wraps his hand around his cock, if in reward or punishment, Mike honestly can’t tell.

Of course, he doesn’t let him come. Again. It’s a maddening rhythm he’s applying to him as he plays his body like a fiddle, pulling him back and forth, back and forth, never letting him rest. Eventually Mike gives up hoping for release, for Harvey to have mercy on him, knowing it will come at _some_ point, and simply surrenders to what he’s feeling.

It’s possible that an hour has passed when Harvey finally puts the whip aside, though Mike lost track of time at some point. He blinks the tears that have gathered in his eyes away, giving Harvey a pleading look.

“God, just look at you,” Harvey whispers, brushing his cheek. The touch is gentle, and kind, and so much more than Mike knows how to deal with in his current state. “You’re so goddamn beautiful like this. How you take everything I give you. How you let go for me.”

Mike wants to give a witty reply, wants to quip something like _I aim to please, Sir_ , but his brain is in too much of a meltdown to actually articulate the words. He is trembling all over, shaking with arousal and the need to come, to get the blissful relief Harvey keeps dangling in front of him.

“How does it feel when you let go, Mike?”

Mike whines, but it seems that Harvey actually wants to hear what he has to say, and so he tries his hardest to phrase something that comes close to what he’s experiencing.

“I couldn’t describe it, Sir. Giving up control, to have you guiding me, knowing that you’re- that you’re taking care of me, I- it’s everything.”

He probably isn’t making much sense, though he tries his hardest to let him know what he’s feeling. “You make it so easy, Sir. You make me want to let go so badly.”

Harvey exhales quietly, like Mike has given him the exact answer he wanted.

“Then let go.”

And Mike does.

The tension that’s been building in his muscles spreads steadily, yet inexorably as Harvey gives him a few more firm strokes. And at last, it’s enough. Mike can finally submit to the waves of pleasure. He knows he is crying out, sobbing with sheer relief as he spends himself in quick, hot pulses, but he couldn’t hold himself back if he tried. The intensity is overwhelming. He exists solely in the feeling of it.

It’s over too soon for the time it took to get here, but Mike knows that he couldn’t have taken another second of it. It’s the most his body could withstand after Harvey’s torturous ministrations. He floats in the sweet, blissful liberation of his release, gradually becoming aware of the words he only now realizes Harvey is saying.

“So good for me,” Harvey murmurs, kissing along his chest. His lips trace the weals he left on him, caressing them so that they almost don’t hurt anymore. “My pretty boy. So beautiful.”

He doesn’t stop until he has kissed every burning inch on his skin, then lifts his head to regard him. The fondness in his eyes leaves him breathless all over.

“Are you feeling alright?”

“I’m fine, Sir,” Mike tells him, distract by the hand stroking his side endlessly. Even where Harvey didn’t strike him, his skin feels tender and raw. His voice is rough, and so he clears his throat before he continues, “Really exhausted, but otherwise I’m great.”

Harvey smiles.

 _God,_ Mike thinks, drawing a painful breath.

Harvey keeps telling Mike how beautiful he is, praises him for how pretty he looks all the time, but the only explanation Mike can find for that is that he has no idea what he looks like when he does this, because there is no way that anything in the world could compare. The sight tears at his heartstrings, paradoxically leaving him with the aching desire to wrap his arms around Harvey and protect him, to make sure that nothing ever happens that would cause that smile to vanish.

“Then thank me,” Harvey tells him, offering the single tail, and Mike kisses the whip, his eyes fixed on Harvey’s.

“Thank you, Sir. Thank you for letting me come. Thank you for my discipline. Thank you for taking such good care of me.”

_Thank you for letting me see you smile. Thank you for sharing this part of you with me. Thank you for looking at me like that._

Harvey nods, cupping his cheek gently. “Thank you, too. It’s been my pleasure, as always.”

At the mention of his pleasure, Mike becomes aware of the hardness pressing into his hip. “Do you want me to…” he mutters, waving towards his crotch. His tongue is heavy, but he trusts Harvey to get the message. Even though he’s exhausted down to his bones, he would never pass up a chance to touch him.

“No, I’m fine,” Harvey tells him softly. “Thank you, though.”

Mike frowns, but drops his hand.

“I’ll manage,” Harvey explains at the sight of his expression. “You, on the other hand, look positively wrecked.”

“Yeah, wonder whose fault that is,” Mike mutters, and Harvey chuckles.

“That was intense,” he agrees.

“Tell me about.”

Mike shivers. Now that the adrenaline is leaving his body, the cold is settling in. Harvey catches it immediately.

“Blanket?”

“Please.”

He gets up, smiling when Mike welcomes the soft fabric with a sigh.

“There we go. Come on, let’s lie down. That’s it.”

Snuggled into the crook of his arm, Mike lets out a deep breath. Harvey’s hand trails down his back, drawing circle after circle. The tender ministrations seep straight into his bones, filling the hollow spaces between them until Mike aches with it.

Harvey is so goddamn gentle with him, so caring and kind and terribly affectionate, and most days he barely knows how to deal with it. It’s heartbreaking, this unexpected tenderness, the sweetest taste of something he wants so desperately that it pains him.

But that’s all it is. He can have a taste, but that’s the most he is going to get.

Inhaling sharply, Mike is struck by a sudden sadness filling his stomach until it paralyzes him.

He has gotten so good at pretending, at tuning out the ticking of the clock while he’s in here with Harvey, that he actually forgets sometimes that this isn’t real.

It’s so messed up. Harvey isn’t even deceiving him on purpose, would likely stop this at once if he knew that’s how he feels, which is ironically the last thing Mike wants him to do. He had so many chances to get out, could call for a stop this very moment, but he’d rather dive into this fantasy and make it last as long as possible, never mind the consequences.

Unfortunately, ignoring the consequences doesn’t make them go away. And every now and then, they’ll sneak up on him and hit him out of nowhere, because a fantasy is all this is, all it’s ever going to be. It’s a scene in every sense of the word, and Mike is all too happy to forget that they’re only playing a role. That this is so far removed from reality, and as is the case with every play, the curtain will have to fall eventually.

And that’s what it all comes down to, in the end. Because really, how much longer can they go on like this? Pretending, playing their parts, touching each other like it means something?

How long can _he_ go on?

He’s doing better, granted. He’s holding up alright. But the image of Harvey with someone else still haunts him. He’s still flooded with sickening contempt when he just thinks about it. He is still tired beyond words, worn out in a way that transcends the mere physical, and he knows, deep down, no matter how much he doesn’t want to acknowledge it, that this isn’t healthy. It’s not good for him.

He just wants to rest, just wants it to be quiet for once, but he never manages, never finds a way to turn off the noise.

And Mike is so goddamn exhausted.

A deep breath escapes him, full to the brim with what he isn’t saying out loud. The sound is too loud in the quiet room. Usually he’s dozing off at this point, and he knows Harvey picks up on the different atmosphere, that he can tell there is something eating at him.

A hand brushes his cheek, and a moment later he murmurs, “What's on your mind, Mike?”

_The truth._

A thought creeps up on him. He knows it’s a bad idea the second he comes up with it, but now that it exists, Mike can’t shake it anymore. And the longer he contemplates it, the more inclined he is to throw any restrictions out of the window and just give it a shot.

To hell with being careful all the fucking time. He’s desperate enough to go for it, never mind what Harvey is going to think. Mike doesn’t want to be careful anymore. He just wants to rest.

He gnaws his lip, finally taking heart. “That reward you wanted to give me, is that still on the table? I know it's been a while, but you said I could ask for it when I thought of something.”

Harvey is silent. “What do you want?”

Mike hears the beating of his own heart when he says, “I don't want you to scene with other people anymore.”

He swallows once the words are out, looking everywhere but at Harvey before he finally gathers the courage to meet his gaze.

Whatever Harvey expected, it clearly wasn’t this. His eyebrows are raised in surprise, and he looks at Mike with curious scrutiny, as if he’s trying to figure him out. Mike feels utterly transparent under his gaze. He expects the questions to come any second, but Harvey doesn’t ask. In the end, he just nods.

“Then I won’t,” he agrees.

Mike exhales slowly. “Thank you.”

“It’s not a hardship on my part, believe me.” Harvey inspects him closely. “Do you want this to be added to the contract?”

Mike hesitates. Part of him is ready to agree immediately, to be as sure as humanly possible that Harvey is his and his alone, if only for a little while, but-

“No,” he decides, shaking his head. “I trust you.”

Harvey nods. “Then you have my word.”

Mike swallows. It’s a relief, having this security, but it doesn’t feel as good as he hoped. He knows his desperation drove him to voice his wish, and it’s that very feeling that doesn’t let him forget now that what Harvey gave him is nothing but an empty promise.

He believes that he means it, of course. That he’s going to stick to his word. But that doesn’t signify that it means anything to him at all, and certainly not what it means to Mike. None of this is real, held together by a contract that is due to be terminated in mere weeks, a play with two actors and an audience of one that is all too happy to forget that this is all just make-believe.

But Harvey still gave him his word. And as little difference as it makes, Mike is going to try and make the most of it.

*

“I have good news and bad news.”

Harvey doesn’t like the look on Mike’s face at all. “Shoot.”

“We figured out a way to call off the deal that could actually hold up in front of a judge.”

“What’s the bad news?”

“It has to happen within the first 72 hours.”

“Goddamn it,” Harvey mutters. That time is long up. Judging by the thin line of Mike’s mouth, he has already checked if there’s a way around it and found nothing, but he’ll look again, just in case. Not because he doesn’t trust Mike, but because they are all tired and overworked, and four eyes see more than two. And they _really_ need to find a way to make this work.

He waves at the documents Mike is carrying.

“Leave those here, I’ll see if we can do anything about that. You go back to looking for other options.”

“You got it.” Mike drops the stack on his desk before he turns to leave. The matter is too pressing to waste any time on chatting or banter, but Harvey still misses the atmosphere they usually work in. He watches his back until he disappears, stifling a sigh.

 _You miss Mike,_ his mind helpfully provides, and he frowns, shaking his head to get rid of the thought. It’s ridiculous. Mike is right here, and they still make time for their scenes, getting the absolute most out of them as they chase the relief they offer. The last one is still fresh in Harvey’s mind, the intensity of it, the sight of Mike writhing beneath him, the tone of his voice as he begged.

But he still misses just being with him. They spend every free minute at the office and thus haven’t had the chance to just hang out like they usually do. Harvey has gotten so used to having Mike around that this just feels off. Mike spends most of his time holed up in the library with Rachel – there are only so many times Harvey can call him to bounce ideas off each other – and while he loves what they do in the bedroom, it’s still different from just getting to spend some time together.

It would probably do Mike some good too. Harvey still thinks about the night he showed up at his place, about that one scene where something dark seemed to take hold of him that he just wouldn’t tell him about. He respects that Mike isn’t saying what’s on his mind – he doesn’t understand why he thinks he can’t, but he respects it – but that doesn’t mean he can stop thinking about it. That’s not who he is. He takes care of his own, and Mike has quietly made himself a permanent place at the very top of that list.

And, okay, there’s no use pretending that it’s only because he’s worried about Mike that he wants to spend time with him. As much as Harvey isn’t the type to broadcast it, he has no trouble admitting to himself when he cares about someone. So of course he wants to be around him. Of course he misses Mike even though he’s right there.

Well, if that isn’t the most pathetic thought he has ever had in his life, he doesn’t know what is.

Harvey purses his lips. The dull pounding in his head is making it hard to concentrate, and he briefly considers taking a break to see how Mike’s doing, but scraps the idea when he remembers that Rachel is with him. The two of them are probably having a laugh or something if they aren’t working on the case, and Harvey has no desire to witness their shameless flirting.

The tension in his skull worsens as he grits his teeth.

The case is tricky, yes, but that’s not even what’s bothering him. They are making _some_ progress, at least. Which Rachel played no small part in.

“Goddamn it,” Harvey mutters.

It’s not that he has an issue with Rachel. He can appreciate a hard worker when he sees one, and she is admittedly not the worst company. Still, having her around him and Mike at all times sets him on edge for some reason.

Harvey rubs his temple. All the stress must be getting to him. He can feel a proper headache coming on now. Just what he needed.

Shaking the thoughts, he redirects his attention to the files Mike left him. The stack is considerable, so he had better get started.

Grabbing the first folder, he settles in for a long day, only taking a break to use the bathroom or get some coffee. He sits over the files until late in the evening and takes them home after that, but eventually he has to admit that there is nothing in them that could help. What a waste of time.

The next day isn’t better. The few hours of sleep Harvey managed to catch didn’t help with his headache in the slightest, and around noon he decides that he’s had it and packs his things to go home. He’s had enough of these four walls, and Mike is off somewhere working with Rachel anyway, so there’s no reason for him to stick around.

The change of scenery helps only marginally, but at least Harvey can slip into something more comfortable before he dives back into work.

It’s gotten dim around him the next time he looks up, and he only does because there’s a knock on the door. Harvey blinks a few times against the strain of his eyes as he goes to open.

It’s Mike. Of course it is. Harvey doesn’t have the time or energy to examine why the sight of him thrills him this much.

“Please tell me you’re here because you found something.”

“What, you aren’t happy to see me? I’m wounded. Actually, I might have, but there’s a ton of documents we have to go through to make sure it works, and I figured that we might as well do that together. I couldn’t stand being at the office anymore either.”

Harvey tilts his head, signing him to come inside.

“Had enough of your cozy little hideout with Rachel, did you?” he asks idly, wondering in the same breath why he did. It’s not like he actually wants to hear more about what the two of them get up to.

“Rachel went home an hour ago,” Mike remarks, pulling out a chair. “There’s enough room in the library for you the next time you get tired of your office, you know. You can join us in there. Remind yourself of where you started.”

Harvey scoffs. “Thanks, but I’ll have to respectfully decline.”

“Suit yourself.”

“So, what have you got for me?”

“A lot,” Mike announces, opening his bag to unpack an impressive stack of files. The pounding in Harvey’s head worsens at the sight. “This is just the first part, but I couldn’t carry everything. I figured that’s all we’re gonna get through in one night anyway. We gotta sleep at some point, right?”

He looks up when Harvey doesn’t react to the joke.

“What are we looking for in those?” he asks instead, grabbing the folder on top.

“Right. Uh, it’s a bit complicated, so let me start with… this one,” Mike mutters, handing him another file that Harvey skims briefly.

“Isn’t that a divorce Jessica handled a few months ago?” he asks, the name vaguely ringing a bell.

“It is,” Mike agrees. “I know, it’s a completely different case, but hear me out. I think there’s a connection that could actually help us if we play our cards right. Rachel and I agree that we just need to find one or two precedents where this worked and then we can-“

He stops when he notices Harvey rubbing his temple, frowning.

Harvey just shakes his head. “Then we can use it to our advantage,” he finishes for him. “Since we’re all out of other options, I guess it won’t hurt.”

“Exactly.” Mike straightens. “We actually stumbled across this by accident, but it turned out to be a real lead. We weren’t sure we could use this for our case, though, so Rachel and I went back a few years, and guess what we found.”

It takes Harvey a second to realize that Mike is expecting an answer, too distracted by his attempts not to let his spiking annoyance show.

“What,” he asks flatly.

“No, guess.”

Harvey exhales deeply. “Mike, I’m really not in the mood for games tonight. Just tell me what it is you have to say so we can get back to work.”

The words come out harsher than he intended, and at the frown on Mike’s face he wishes he could take them back, but now they are already said, hanging in the silence between them.

One look at Mike’s face tells him that he isn’t going to let himself be palmed off this time.

“Is something wrong?”

“I’m fine.”

Mike huffs. “Yeah, bullshit.”

“Mike-“

“I thought we’d agreed,” he cuts in, shaking his head as he puts down the folder. “Transparency, remember?”

Harvey halts. “You know that doesn’t apply out here, right?”

“Not bindingly, no. But I thought you and I were at a point where the fact that we talk to each other is a given. No matter what it’s about.”

Harvey presses his lips together, because Mike is not wrong, but that doesn’t mean he knows how to express what’s going on with him any more than before.

Mike’s eyes bore into his as he leans in. “Harvey, I can tell that something’s not right. You know that I’ve fallen back on you countless times, and you’ve never once complained. Because that’s what we’re here for, isn’t it? I just want to return the favor.”

Harvey presses his lips together as he returns his gaze, feeling his resolve wavering. He sighs.

“It’s nothing,” he finally says. “I’m just stressed, that’s all. It’s this goddamn case, and…”

“And?” Mike echoes when he doesn’t go on. At his expression, he says, “Look, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. Or if you can’t. But I know what it’s like to carry that shit around all the time, and if I can help in any way, I want to. So if there’s anything I can do, just tell me. Please.”

_Please._

“I don’t know,” Harvey says, but it’s not for lack of trying.

He’s frustrated at himself by his lack of eloquence. He has never been good at expressing what he feels. Since he’s not usually one to confide in people, that’s never been much of an issue for him, but now that he actually _wants_ to, he finds it exceptionally infuriating.

Because he does. He wants to let Mike in. And the most surprising part about that is how it’s not really a surprise at all.

Mike tilts his head, his eyes too understanding as they hold Harvey’s until he feels like he can’t look away. “What do you need?”

Good question. Harvey wishes he had an answer.

Then again, so what if he doesn’t?

Returning his look, Harvey is struck by how ridiculous this is. This is _Mike._ They always tell each other how it is. Nothing has changed.

“I’m not sure,” Harvey admits, saying exactly what’s on his mind. If it’s the most he can do, then he’ll goddamn do it. “I think I just need a break. From everything.”

Mike purses his lips, clearly thinking, and then straightens his shoulders. “Okay. I got this. Come on.”

He gets up, halting when Harvey raises an eyebrow. “Come on,” he repeats, signing him to move.

“What are you doing?” Harvey asks, and Mike rolls his eyes, smiling a little.

“Trust me.”

At the look Harvey gives him, he chuckles. “I know, just… please. Let me take care of you, Harvey.”

_Let me take care of you. That's an order._

He remembers the words, remembers how he said them to Mike in a situation not unlike this one, where he was equally desperate to help him through something he didn’t understand.

Mike doesn't say it, but Harvey follows anyway.

It's not a scene, not in any way. That's not who they are, either of them. It's just... Mike, taking care of Harvey. And Harvey letting him.

“Come with me,” Mike asks, tugging at his sleeve, and Harvey lets himself be steered to the sofa, accepting the arms closing around him when he sits down without a thought to refuse them. Mike is behind him, one arm around his shoulder, the other around his middle, barely holding on, just resting there. Offering as much contact as he wants.

And, okay, this is nice. More than nice. Harvey is surprised by how quickly the tension seems to seep out of his body as he relaxes into Mike.

God. They are really cuddling, aren’t they? Without a scene prompting them to do so. Without any other reason than because they want to.

It's not something they have ever done before, but now that they’re here, it just feels right. Another line crossed without a glance back. Harvey is beginning to lose track of what they are to each other. He has no idea what this means, if it means anything, but as he contemplates the warmth spreading in him while they sit there, sharing in the silence that is only disturbed by their breathing, he knows that it feels much too significant not to.

A smile tugs at his lips when he recognizes the rhythm in his breathing he showed Mike the night he took care of him. He doesn’t know if he’s applying it on purpose, if this is something he’s doing for his own benefit or because he thinks it will help Harvey too, but the fact alone that it stuck with him makes his chest swell.

These are the marks he leaves on Mike that aren’t visible, but that don’t fade after only a short while either. The ones he can never be sure of unless Mike lets him see them. Funnily enough, he leaves just as many of those on Harvey, probably without even knowing it.

He may not even understand all the ways they have branded each other by now. These marks, they’re much more substantial than the physical ones, endlessly more precious to Harvey, and seeing proof of them fills him with an almost reverent tranquility that makes every breath he draws flow effortlessly.

It’s peace, he realizes. The warmth in his stomach, the ease with which the tension he’s been holding for days falls away, the calm he finds in being close to Mike, it’s the most at peace he has felt in _years_.

Who knew. Who knew that having Mike nearby, just being with him, could give him something so precious.

“Are we going to talk about this?”

Even though Harvey’s tone is light, more teasing than actually asking, Mike tenses behind him.

“I don’t know,” he says after a slight pause. “Should we?”

They probably should. Shouldn’t they? Then again, they have never been too concerned with what they should or shouldn’t do. The fact that they’re here at all proves that.

“I don’t know,” Harvey echoes. He doesn’t care all that much about the answer.

Mike is quiet before he asks, “Do you want to?”

Harvey listens up at the hesitancy in his voice. He sounds careful, almost afraid, like he thinks Harvey is going to put an end to this as soon as they put it into words. Like he is going to reject him.

As if that’s even a remote possibility.

“No,” Harvey says.

Mike exhales deeply, his relief evident in the minute slump of his shoulders. If Harvey weren’t so attuned to him, he probably wouldn’t have noticed. “Then we don’t have to,” he decides, like that settles it.

Harvey tilts his head to glance at him. “I don’t want to, because I don’t think there’s anything that needs to be talked about.”

Mike returns his look, and the smile he gives him is fond and relieved and a little sad around the edges too. Before Harvey can pinpoint it, he lifts an eyebrow and nudges his shoulder.

“Care to let me know what’s going on with you, then? Or is that nothing to be talked about either?”

Harvey huffs out a quiet laugh. It’s the first one in days, he realizes. “Right now, it’s really not.”

Mike accepts that for the admission it is.

“I’m right here,” is all he says. Harvey nods. He knows it.

Silence falls between them, easy and relaxed. Harvey sinks into it, feeling the stress fall away as he lets his thoughts wander. Mike is quiet behind him, shifting every once in a while to get more comfortable.

“I was in my third year of uni when I first got into the Scene.”

Mike’s breathing stops briefly. He stays silent as he waits for Harvey to go on.

“I’d noticed for a while that I was into domination. I didn’t try much at first, just the occasional venture in the bedroom. It was enough for me to realize that I wanted to pursue it, though. I’d heard of BDSM, but I’d never really paid attention to it, so I read everything I could get my hands on and then decided to visit a club.” He smiles. “That’s where I met Jordan.”

Mike inhales sharply. Harvey can tell he’s trying to stay quiet, but the question slips out nevertheless.

“Did you scene with him?”

“As his sub, yes,” Harvey confirms. Mike seems struck by the admission. Harvey turns to give him an amused look. “You did ask me that question once. Well, here’s your answer. No need to be shocked.”

Mike shakes his head. “I know, I just… I didn’t think… it’s hard to imagine, that’s all.”

“It wasn’t easy for me,” Harvey agrees. “Which is precisely why I had to do it, Jordan said. And he was right. We didn’t jump into the scene right away. I wouldn’t have agreed to that. Instead we just talked, almost all night. He’d seen me standing there by myself, probably looking more lost than I cared to admit. He asked if I was new, if I wanted to have a drink and chat with him for a while. I’d gone there intending to find someone who could tell me about the Scene, so I agreed. He got me that drink, he sat me down, and then he started to talk.”

Harvey chuckles. “He must have sensed my curiosity. He gave me an overview, and then he let me ask my questions. We clicked right away, and I realized soon that he knew what he was about. When I asked if he’d be willing to teach me, he agreed at once. Under the condition that I’d be learning by doing. Everything he’d show me, I’d first have to experience myself.”

Mike blinks at him. “Wow. I mean, that’s… a really sensible approach, probably, but still.”

“As far as I’m concerned, it’s the only right one. I’m not saying that every dom has to try out every single practice themselves, but I firmly believe that you can only understand what you’re doing to your scene partner when you’ve felt that type of pain yourself. You should have been on the receiving end at least once before assuming that you can handle the responsibility of having someone else on their knees for you.”

Mike nods slowly. “That must have been hard for you, though. Maybe I’m just too biased, but I can’t imagine you submitting to anyone.”

“It challenged me, but it wasn’t all a hardship. I did have my fun with it.” Harvey huffs. “Certainly not as much as Jordan, though. He loved every second of topping me, I could tell. Dominating a dom, that was right up his alley.”

Mike looks like he doesn’t know how to deal with that information. “He sounds…”

“Like quite the guy? Yeah.” Harvey smirks. “He is.”

“What’s he like?” Mike asks, deep curiosity seeping into his voice, like he’s desperate to understand what kind of person got Harvey Specter to kneel for them.

“A few years older than me. Very strong, but you wouldn’t know at first sight. Dark hair. Not as tall as you’d think, but there’s an air around him that just makes everyone in the room stop and listen up.”

“Like someone else I know,” Mike mutters. Harvey chuckles.

“He’s very clear on what he wants,” he continues. “Very clear on what’s right and wrong, too. Strong morals. His sadistic streak runs deep, but he never does anything he isn’t sure his sub can take. He’d never harm anyone or take advantage of his power. Every practice benefits his sub as well. It’s clear in everything he does during a scene. I remember taking in his stance and thinking that if I ever wanted to dominate anyone, it would be like that. Anything else would have felt like a failure.”

Mike absorbs his words quietly.

“Do you still talk to him?”

Harvey can tell that this is a question he has been burning to ask, for much longer than this conversation.

“Sometimes. Not often. We usually meet up about once a year, but that’s it. We both have a lot going on in our lives, and our arrangement has run its course, but it’s always good to see him. And I’ll always be indebted to him for how he took me under his wing. I can’t forget something like that.”

Mike nods slowly. “You were lucky to have found him,” he mutters.

“I was. And I was lucky I recognized my dominant streak before I started making a name for myself, too. It allowed me to get acquainted with the Scene and play the field without having to fear the consequences if someone saw me.”

“How long did you?” Mike asks curiously. “Play the field?”

“My training took about six months. Between finishing that and deciding to make myself scarce was a good year. I kept going back to Jordan, though. We had some fun times together.”

A fond smile spreads on his lips at the trip down memory lane. Mike listens breathlessly the entire time he tells his story. He has questions too, many of them, and Harvey doesn’t mind answering him. He’s never told anyone about this part of his life, never had a reason to, but he wants Mike to know. He wants to share this with him.

They talk for a long time, and for a while, Harvey manages to forget about the case and Rachel and wanting to strangle their client and missing Mike even though he’s right there. For a while, the peace he’s experiencing persists.

He loses track of how long they stay on that sofa, neither of them inclined to go back to their work.

It doesn’t matter, Harvey decides. This is too good to cut short. He’ll be damned if he misses even a second of it.

*

They manage to undo the deal. It’s a close thing, and they bend more laws than Harvey can count in the process, but they manage. Jessica is pleased with them. Their client is very pleased with them, Mike and Rachel are so delighted that they fall into each other’s goddamn arms right then and there like they aren’t professionals, and Harvey…

Harvey is not as happy about their win as he should be.

It’s a relief to get to turn his back on this mess of a case, granted, but as he shakes their client’s hand and assures him that they just did their job, only part of him feels the thrill of having managed the impossible. Most of him is just weary.

Still, no reason to rain on Mike’s parade. Approaching him after they’ve settled everything, he tells him, “You did well, rookie. I couldn’t have done this without you.” Grudgingly, he turns to Rachel. “You too.”

Mike beams at him. “Thanks, Harvey.”

It does something strange to him, seeing Mike like this.

“He’s right,” Rachel says, nudging him with a grin. “We did good.”

“We sure did,” Mike agrees with an equally wide smile. Harvey tries not to roll his eyes.

“Hey, you up for some celebrating?” he asks once Rachel has excused herself. “Clearly you’re in a good mood, and I think we’ve earned some time off.”

Mike sighs. “Rain check?” he asks hopefully. “I’m dead on my feet, honestly. I don’t think I’d be good company right now. I was just gonna go home and catch up on some sleep. Since, you know, there’s something happening tomorrow night that kinda requires my attention.”

Despite his disappointment, Harvey’s lips curve upwards at the mention of their scene.

“Sure,” he agrees, squeezing Mike’s shoulder. “You go and get some rest. We’ll do this another time.”

Mike nods. “Definitely!” he promises, and Harvey smiles and watches him take off before he heads home with a sigh.

He’s still infuriatingly unexcited, and it annoys the hell out of him. He usually lives for these moments, to savor the sweet taste of victory and wallow in the triumph of achieving a win.

God knows what’s keeping him from it today.

He checks the time when his stomach rumbles, remembering that they skipped lunch to see this through. He thought about going out for dinner, but without Mike’s company, he decides to just pick something up on the way. He ends up choosing Mike’s favorite Indian, trying not to acknowledge how he somehow enjoys the rich flavors more when he’s there to steal bits from his plate and share the naan bread with him.

It’s still early when he finishes eating. He’s not sure what exactly he’s in the mood for, but he knows it’s not having an early night in, so he might as well go out and see if anything comes about.

He ends up at a bar a few blocks away that he remembers for its amazing martinis, and he sits down while the bartender prepares him one, leaning back to watch his surroundings without much interest.

The night is still young. The place is only just filling with people coming in after work, meeting up to celebrate the end of the day. Harvey doesn’t see anyone he’s interested in, and after a while he stops looking, not feeling like picking anyone up anyway.

He orders a second drink, scrolling through the messages on his phone as he waits. They’re all work-related. None of them even slightly interesting.

The bartender puts the glass in front of him, and he sets his phone down, drumming his fingers against the counter as he takes a sip.

The later it gets, the better the music becomes. Thank god for small mercies. Harvey was just considering to leave when Charles Bradley comes on, convincing him to stay a while longer.

The song is comfortingly familiar. Harvey has heard it countless times. There’s a record of it in his office, passed on to him from his dad a few years before he died. He closes his eyes, letting the music wash over him. Taking a nip of his drink again, he sighs quietly.

“Well, if it isn’t the man without a name.”

Harvey looks up from his drink. “Lee,” he greets the man before him in surprise, a smile spreading on his lips.

Lee grins. “You remember me! I’m flattered. Why do you look so shocked? Didn’t expect to see me here, huh?”

“Not really, no,” Harvey admits, looking him up and down. “I don’t mind, though. Have a seat,” he decides, waving at the space beside him.

“You sure?”

“Of course.”

Lee sits down with a smile, ordering a mojito – no virgin this time – before he turns to Harvey, inspecting him closely. Harvey barely resist the urge to shift beneath his gaze.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it? Can’t say that I expected to find you here either, but I sure as hell don’t mind. I was wondering if I’d ever see you again. You haven’t been around the club, have you? I’ve been looking for you, but you’re never there.”

“No, I don’t go there often.”

Lee gives him a strange look. “Yeah, I can tell.” He accepts his drink from the bartender, swirling the contents with his straw before he asks, “So, how have you been?”

“Good, yeah,” Harvey tells him, but it sounds unconvincing even to his own ears.

“Really? Cause you don’t look like it, man. No offense, you’re still a sight for sore eyes and all that, but I can tell something’s on your mind.”

Harvey considers denying it, but sees no point in it. This is someone he has nothing to do with, the only thing tying them together the once-only connection they shared in. He is likely never going to see Lee again after tonight, so why should he keep anything from him? There’s no reason to hide.

He halts to consider that thought and the feeling of unease it gives him. Does he usually hide? Not consciously so. But if he doesn’t, why does the idea make him stop short like this?

“I guess there is,” he finally agrees, and it feels bigger than it should somehow, but Lee only nods like he already knew what he was going to say.

“Wanna talk about it?”

“I’m not sure there’s anything to say,” Harvey mutters. It’s not entirely the truth; he’s fairly certain there is a _lot_ to say, he just doesn’t know what. And he really doesn’t like not knowing.

“Uh-oh,” Lee makes, picking up his drink. “Sounds complicated. Maybe you should get out of your head for a while, do a scene or something. I mean, I’d be game if you were up for it…”

He smiles at Harvey, who returns it before he raises his glass. “I appreciate it, but I don’t do that anymore. Not with other people,” he adds at Lee’s expression.

He raises an eyebrow. “You’re exclusive now? Wow, that must be one lucky guy. Or girl.”

Harvey’s heart does a strange flutter as he thinks of Mike, of everything he has given and continues to give him, and he is overcome by the truth of his words when he tells him, “I’m the lucky one.”

Lee’s eyes are unsettlingly knowing as they bore into his.

“Well, I guess you wouldn’t settle for just anyone.” He tilts his head. “Let me guess. It’s the guy you’re in love with.”

Having just raised his glass halfway, Harvey freezes. He lowers it slowly, carefully, taking the moment to regain his composure. Lee’s voice was entirely too neutral for the weight of his statement, like he didn’t just drop a goddamn bomb on Harvey, like there isn’t even a question about there being someone he’s in love with.

He is quiet as he sets down his drink, running his finger along the rim of his glass.

“What makes you say that?” he finally asks.

Lee narrows his eyes a little, like he wonders if Harvey is going to deny it, but he’s smiling when he says, “You never called.”

Harvey frowns. “So?”

Lee sucks in his lip as he thinks before he meets his eyes, raising his chin a little.

“You know what stuck with me about our scene? It was amazing. Mind-blowing, actually. One of the best I’ve ever had, without either of us really doing much for it. But it wasn’t what you were looking for, was it?”

“How do you know that?”

Lee pulls his shoulders up. “I’m not sure. I guess I just saw that your heart wasn’t in it.”

Harvey tries not to tense. “You noticed?”

“Not in anything you did,” Lee assures him immediately, squeezing his hand. The sudden contact doesn’t feel as weird or intrusive as Harvey expected. “It was just… in the way you looked at me afterwards. Or the way you looked when you didn’t look at me.”

Harvey has no idea what he’s supposed to say to that. Lee shifts beside him.

“Look, man, I don’t wanna intrude or anything, and I know it’s none of my business. I totally get that. I’m just saying, whoever it is that has you in such a state, he really is lucky. Or she, I suppose. Even though it wasn’t what you wanted, that scene we did was amazing. I can only imagine what you’re like when you give it a hundred percent.”

Harvey purses his lips, running his finger along his drink endlessly. Lee’s reassurance offer a marginal relief, but his words still pound in his head. Could he be right? Could there be something to his assumptions?

Would he really ask himself these questions if there wasn’t?

Harvey wipes the moisture he gathered from his glass on his pants. His heart is in his throat, beating a feral rhythm that puts everything into a sharp focus. Clear. Undeniable.

“It’s a guy,” he finally murmurs, feeling the momentum of the confession in every part of him.

Lee gives him an approving smile. “Thought so.”

Harvey raises his drink, resisting the urge to gulp down the whole thing in one go as the words run through his head on a loop.

He’s in love with Mike.

_Goddamn it._

He should have known, for god’s sake. He should have seen it coming from miles away.

How the hell did he not see it coming?

Now that he thinks about it, it’s crystal clear. Of course he’s in love with Mike. Of course that’s what this is. That’s what it’s all been about, his bad mood, his fixation on him, the desire for him that is never quite satisfied, it all amounts to the fact that he went and fell in love with the kid.

And he was just too goddamn blind to realize it.

Then again, that’s just typical for Mike. Always taking him by surprise, isn’t he? From the very first day, that’s what he’s always done best. Sneaking up on Harvey, carving himself a place in his life when he wasn’t paying attention. Now he’s carved himself one inside him too, and Harvey was so busy looking the other way that it’s too late now to even think about undoing the damage.

He only realizes how long he’s been sitting in silence when Lee waves the bartender over.

“Sorry,” he mutters, shaking himself. That’s the second time he’s failing to give him the attention he deserves. “I’m not usually this dire company, honestly. I’m just… out of it today.”

“Hey, it’s fine.” Lee nudges his shoulder. “You got a lot on your mind, I can see that. No harm done. Look, we don’t have to talk about it. We barely know each other.”

Harvey gives him a crooked smile. “Maybe that’s just what I’m looking for right now.”

Lee smiles too. Harvey nods at the bar, suddenly desperate to not be alone right now.

“Come on. Stay for another drink. I don’t mind if we talk. Or don’t talk. What do you say?”

Lee laughs quietly. “Another drink it is, Sir.”

Harvey chuckles too, and he feels a little lighter for it.

“Enough about me now,” he then says, elbowing Lee gently. “What have you been up to?”

“Oh, I’ve been making my way around town. Having a good time, meeting people. It’s all good.”

Harvey smiles. “Yeah, I believe it.”

He signals the bartender to make another mojito, then sits back to listen to Lee’s stories.

They get talking easily, speaking about nothing of importance, staying clear of the details of their private lives by unspoken agreement, but they have no trouble finding things to discuss, and it’s the most fun Harvey has had with someone in ages. Bar Mike, of course.

“I have to say, I’m glad I ran into you tonight,” Harvey confides when his third drink is nearing its end and he is starting to feel the effects of the alcohol. “I wouldn’t have wanted to spend the night with a stranger. But you aren’t, are you? You’re right, we don’t know each other, but we aren’t strangers either. That’s… I like that.”

Lee tilts his head, grinning. “Yeah, I kind of do, too.”

Harvey eyes him from the side. In another life, he would have taken Lee home tonight to do so much more than just a scene. Forget the no-sex rule. Forget that he has work in the morning. Forget anything that isn’t the gorgeous man in front of him and immerse himself in him until neither of them remembered their names anymore.

In this life, he has absolutely no desire to do so. He’s not sure how he feels about that, but he does know that he’s quite okay with just sitting here next to him and sharing in his company.

“It’s nice, isn’t it? Preferable to drinking alone.”

“Oh, definitely. I’ll toast to that, Sir.”

Harvey smiles at the playful way he still uses that term, how he never asks for anything else that Harvey didn’t offer in the first place. If he doesn’t want to, he never has to give him more. He doesn’t have to open up further, doesn’t have to be anything else than what Lee already knows he is.

He raises his glass too, touching it to Lee’s before he drinks.

“Listen,” Lee says when he has set it down, turning to him. “Stop me if this is too personal, yeah? I just want to say this. I don’t know the details of your situation, and maybe I’m way out of line here, but you kinda still look like someone just died on you, and I can’t have that.”

Harvey blinks when Lee brushes his cheek, smiling. “Quite frankly, I think you’re amazing. You’re one of the most considerate, caring doms I’ve ever scened with, and even though I’ve never seen you in your everyday life, I can tell that it’s just who you are. Your guy has no idea how lucky he is to have someone like you as devoted to him as you are. But he can find out, right? If you let him see. I’m sure it’s not as hopeless as you think.”

Harvey drops his eyes.

“You don’t know him. It’s…”

“Complicated?” Lee offers knowingly.

“Yeah.”

“Well, from my non-stranger’s point of view, I’m kind of getting the feeling that complicated is just your style. You wouldn’t like things easy, would you?”

“A bit easier wouldn’t be the worst thing in this case,” Harvey murmurs, scowling at his drink.

“Don’t worry. I’m sure you can figure things out.”

Lee takes another sip, giving Harvey the opportunity to think.

It sounds so simple when he says it like that, but it’s not. Mike and he are too many things at once, too involved for this to be anywhere near as easy as he makes it seem. If he lost Mike because of some miscalculation, he wouldn’t just lose his sub and his associate. He’d lose his best friend, for god’s sake. He’d lose the person he cares about most.

Mike is so much to him. He snuck into so many parts of Harvey’s life that without him, he isn’t sure the framework would hold up anymore. How could he ever take a risk like that?

“Leonard.”

Harvey looks up.

“It’s my full name,” Lee clarifies. “Leonard. I just thought you should know.”

Harvey searches his face before he nods. Lee smiles, then lets out a deep breath.

“Well, I’ve said my piece. I think I’m gonna leave you to it now. There’s a guy over there I want to try my luck with.”

Harvey follows his eyes. “Nice choice,” he acknowledges. “He’s handsome. And he’s looking in your direction.”

“I know. Has been doing so for the past hour.” Lee smirks before he downs the rest of his mojito. “Thanks for the drinks. It was fun, catching up. Not as much as last time, but still fun.”

Harvey chuckles. “It was,” he agrees.

Lee regards him almost fondly. “Take care, Sir.”

Harvey’s lips curve up. “And you,” he tells him genuinely. He’s probably not going to see him again, and he truly wishes the best for him. Lee squeezes his shoulder before he gets up.

He has already turned to leave when Harvey calls after him, “Lee?”

He looks back. “Yeah?”

“Harvey. My name is Harvey.”

Lee smiles, giving him a nod. “It was good seeing you, Harvey.”

“Yeah. You too,” he says quietly, looking after him until he disappears.

The music returns to the foreground now that there’s no chattering distracting him. They started playing Prince at one point. Harvey never liked that song.

He sighs.

Back to being by himself, there is nothing diverting his thoughts from the matter at hand.

He can feel his headache returning, rubbing his temple wearily as he stares into his drink. Alcohol probably wasn’t the best idea.

This is a right mess he’s in. And not just because his track record of relationships and dealing with his emotions isn’t exactly the best.

This isn’t just about him. There are two people involved in this, two people influenced by his feelings, and that means that there is something else he should think about. It means there are consequences to whatever he decides to do, and that’s raising issues he’d rather not face. But Harvey isn’t one to run from uncomfortable truths, and so he ignores the sinking sensation in his stomach and makes himself consider the question bothering him.

Their arrangement is one of the best things that’s ever happened to him. It’s going so well. It’s exhilarating, an amazing outlet, an opportunity to share in a connection he never had with anyone else, and a hell of a lot of fun, too. It’s one of the most valuable things Harvey has in his life, but now he can’t help but ask himself if he can really go on like he did before.

Can he just pretend that nothing happened? Like everything’s fine and nothing has changed?

He’s really not sure what the answer to that question is, and it unsettles him more than he cares to admit.

But what’s the alternative? Does he just call it off and then they’ll go on like it meant nothing to either of them? Can they really just… stop?

Even entertaining the idea leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, a feeling of trepidation sitting heavily on his chest.

But Harvey has a responsibility. He has a duty of care, and Mike trusts him with it, so it’s all the more important, it’s vital that he questions whether he trusts _himself_.

What if he goes too far? What if he takes too much, if he loses sight of what’s best for Mike and only thinks about satisfying his own desires?

The thought alone makes his skin crawl. Harvey takes another sip of his drink, hoping the burn of the alcohol will drown out the feeling.

He can never, ever let that happen. It can’t ever get that far.

He’s the one who was careless enough to fall in love. He can’t let Mike suffer the consequences.

But he can’t stomach the thought of giving up what they have, either. Harvey is painfully aware of the impossible choice he’s facing, more out of his depth than he has ever been.

He has no idea what he’s supposed to do.

Getting sick of the smell, he pushes his drink away, knowing that he isn’t going to find an answer in there anyway. He should have a clear head when he thinks about this.

Tomorrow. He’ll think about what to do tomorrow. Nothing is going to happen overnight. There is still a choice he has to make, a problem that isn’t going to solve itself, but goddamn it, it’ll have to wait. It has to.

He just needs to pretend for one more night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The part I was talking about is Harvey leaving a cut on Mike during their knifeplay scene until he starts bleeding. There’s just one drop of blood and then they stop, but Harvey “plays” with it/licks it up afterwards, so if that’s not your cup of tea, you can skip to “Are you alright?” - it’s just a few lines :)


	10. Chapter 10

Something’s changed.

Mike is kneeling at Harvey’s feet, swallowing roughly against the apprehension welling up in him. It’s impossible to pinpoint what it is, but he knows that something is different.

Harvey is looking at him, watching, the riding crop in his hand like any other Friday. Only that it’s not. Mike is acutely aware of the change in the atmosphere, in Harvey’s demeanor, the expression on his face that is making his stomach sink more and more with every passing second.

Harvey is right there, and yet it feels like he isn’t. It’s in the way his stance is just a little too upright, how he never leaves the spot he’s standing in, the look in his eyes making him seem much farther away than he is.

If Mike had to put it into words, he’d say that Harvey is distancing himself.

It’s not tangible in any way, the signs too miniscule, invisible to anyone who isn’t as attuned to Harvey as he is, but they are there all the same. His heart is in his throat with the anxiety it gives him, leaving his pulse racing and his mouth dry, and Mike does the only thing he can think of in the face of it.

Where Harvey is pulling back, he reaches for him, refusing to accept the lines he is trying to draw between them. He clings to every touch he’s giving him, holds every gaze as he constantly tries to get more, to lure him out of his shell, half expecting Harvey to reject him at any moment.

Only that he doesn’t.

Harvey doesn’t draw back further. He doesn’t deny him what he longs for. Something passes over his face when he reaches for him, too quick for Mike to grasp, and then his shoulders sag and he simply gives in.

For just a second it looks like he’s wavering, torn between what his mind tells him and what he truly wants, but it’s gone as quickly as it came before he devotes himself to their scene again, and Mike barely has time to ponder why it feels so much like surrender.

Of course, once he steps out of their little bubble, the crippling doubts catch up with him again. Because he knows he isn’t making the oddities in Harvey’s behavior up. He knows something is wrong.

He just doesn’t know what, which makes it impossible to fix, and it’s driving him insane to just watch Harvey slip away from him.

He would do anything to make this right. There’s no point in pretending. Mike would do anything for Harvey if he only asked.

But Harvey doesn’t ask for anything. And whenever he isn’t distancing himself, he already looks at Mike like he hung the moon. It makes his breath hitch every time he catches that gaze, the shocks it sends through him never wearing off, no matter how often it happens.

And it happens a lot.

It doesn't matter if Harvey strikes or caresses him, if they are at the office or inside the bedroom. Harvey's eyes are always on him, and too often they have that look in them, the one that leads Mike to question everything.

It makes him forget that they’re pretending, that all this is just make-believe.

It gives him a dangerous feeling. It makes him _hope_.

And he really doesn’t want to, because he knows he’s setting himself up for disaster, but every time he shivers under the heat of Harvey’s gaze, he just can’t help himself.

It’s Harvey’s fault for looking at him like that in the first place. Talk about mixed signals.

Why the hell _does_ he look at him like that? What is it supposed to tell him, if not what he so desperately wants it to?

Mike spends his nights agonizing about what it means, trying to quash the flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, this isn’t as futile as it seems.

He could ask, of course. He could stop pretending that he doesn’t see there’s something on Harvey’s mind and demand an explanation for the look following him everywhere.

He could, but he is too scared of what the answer might be to go through with it.

Instead, Mike tries to immerse himself in the scenes, in the connection with Harvey he feels during them.

Luckily, Harvey makes it more than easy.

“This is going to get you out of your head for a while,” he tells him the following Friday, squeezing his shoulder gently.

Mike can’t see his face through the blindfold, but he’s sure that he is smiling. It’s like a gut feeling at this point, the way he picks up on Harvey’s moods almost subconsciously.

He has just completed his discipline, still feeling the burn of the slapper on his backside, and is now waiting for what Harvey has planned next.

“I want you to focus on the different sensations,” Harvey explains. “Just feel them. Lie still if you can, but you’re allowed to move if you must.”

Mike, distracted by the hand running up and down his arm as he speaks, remembers to nod.

The touch disappears. Mike can hear Harvey picking up something from the nightstand.

“Just relax,” he murmurs. Any efforts to do so on Mike’s part prove futile when he touches him with something he instantly recognizes as ice, flinching away from the wet cube on instinct. Of course, Harvey doesn’t let him get away. He follows where he goes until Mike wills himself to lie still, taking deep breaths.

Harvey sounds amused when he asks, “How’s that?”

“Really fu- _cold_ , Sir,” Mike gets out.

Harvey chuckles. “Yeah, I guessed that much. Do you like it?”

“It’s… not bad.” Mike experimentally shifts beneath the melting cube. “I think I do, Sir.”

“Good. Let’s see if you still say the same when I’m done with you.”

The ice disappears, only to return on the inside of his thigh. His involuntary gasp draws an approving hum from Harvey, who slides up his skin slowly, getting closer and closer to his cock. Mike tenses with anticipation. He’s hard already, achingly so, and he braces himself for the immediate sensation.

It never comes. Instead Harvey’s hand disappears again, leaving only a wet trail behind. Mike is caught off guard when the next thing he feels is something else entirely, the soft tickle of what must be a feather grazing his balls cursorily.

“Fuck,” he gasps, the word slipping out before he can think about it, but Harvey only tuts.

“What’s the matter, boy? You’re not enjoying yourself?”

Mike just exhales shakily. Harvey sounds entirely too smug when he murmurs, “Aren’t you trying to be good for your dom?”

Mike whimpers, partially due to the ludicrous suggestion and partially because the feather just brushed the head of his cock and staying silent is impossible.

Harvey hums idly, sounding perfectly composed, like this is just a pastime to him while Mike is already struggling to win the fight for his sanity.

“Oh, I know you are. But it’s hard, isn’t it?” He chuckles. “Pun unintended.”

Mike chokes on the incredulous laugh turning into a groan as he teases his cock again to emphasize his point. He is so conditioned to associate Harvey’s touch with bone-deep arousal that it takes nothing more for a first drop of precome to emerge.

“Look at you,” Harvey murmurs, a strange tone in his voice. “Always so responsive. You have no idea how good you are for me, Mike. You have no idea just how…”

He trails off, seemingly lost in thought, but Mike’s attention is only half on whatever’s going through his head, because then Harvey drops the feather and starts really touching him. The air leaves his lungs at the familiar warmth of his palms, running up his stomach to his chest. He doesn’t see the pinch of his nipples coming, but he feels the mix of pleasure and pain trickling down his spine through and through.

Harvey has done everything imaginable to him, but it’s things like this that nearly do him in.

“How do you like that? How does it feel?”

“Like too much,” Mike murmurs. “Too much for how little you’re doing to me, Sir,” he clarifies at the halt in Harvey’s movements.

“Good,” Harvey says. “Just focus on it, baby. Focus on my hands. On what I’m doing to you.”

“Yes, Sir,” Mike sighs, doing his best to follow the instructions.

Harvey eases off him to pick up the feather again.

“Just feel it,” he murmurs, like Mike could forget the steady mantra, like he could do anything _but_ feel it.

It’s easy to sink into it. Harvey offers a constant back and forth of physical sensations, going from low to high to low again, never letting him get too comfortable. His rhythm is steady yet unpredictable, providing a structure he can lean on but not anticipate, ensuring that he is always and without fail present.

His touches carry Mike into a state of blissful relaxation easily. There’s pain in it too, of course, but it feels more like a reward than anything else. The pinches of his nipples have a gentleness to them despite their sharp sting, the soft brushes over his body are teasing but never cruel. Mike doesn’t make the mistake of assuming that he’s being pampered, but… well, it’s not too far off. He feels cherished. Taken care of.

It’s really, really nice.

The feather disappears before he can get used to it. Mike hears Harvey pick something up before he brings his hands to his chest, letting him feel the slick slide as he moves, the slowly growing temperature. He quickly recognizes the heating oil he used the night Mike showed up on his doorstep, and he swallows, grateful that Harvey doesn’t expect him to speak right now. He’s not sure he could.

Maybe there’s an element of pampering to this after all.

He doesn’t have long to wallow in his sudden sentimentality. Apparently his adjustment period is over now that Harvey has introduced all the different sensations, because that’s when he stops going easy on him.

Mike inhales sharply when the warmth is joined by an ice cube, struggling to reconcile the conflicting sensations. His body doesn’t seem to know how to respond, caught between goosebumps and perspiration. It’s an entirely unfamiliar and out of order state of being, leaving him highly alert. His breath comes harder as he tries to work through it, and he can tell from the way Harvey’s speeds up ever so slightly that he isn’t unaffected by this either.

It comforts him. They are in this together, always. As long as they are in here they exist as one unit, inseparable from each other, even if only for a little while.

Just when his body has started adjusting to it, the ice disappears. Mike shivers in its absence, the oil gradually cooling down without Harvey’s continued rubbing. There’s a sudden sharp sting on his chest he recognizes as the single tail – Harvey must have brought it out without him noticing – but he barely has time to relish the building pain before his attention is diverted by a tickle on the inside of his thigh, moving along the tender skin. Another sharp sting, and Mike grunts, picking up on Harvey’s intention.

Like he guessed, he continues teasing him into a state of arousal that is its very own kind of pain, though one Mike has long learned to love.

He falters when Harvey stops touching him from one moment to the next, his breath hitching when he feels his hands on his face, swiftly taking off the blindfold.

“There,” Harvey murmurs when his eyes have found his, touching his cheek before he straightens. “I want you to watch me. I want to see what you look like when I do this to you.”

Mike swallows, not even trying to find his voice. He just nods, licking his lips as Harvey drags the blindfold down his torso, letting it brush his cock before he drops it on the floor.

“Relax,” he instructs gently, a smile pulling on his lips when he picks up an ice cube from the nightstand.

Easier said than done.

It feels different, now that Mike can see. Harvey takes his sweet time with teasing him until a thin sheen of sweat is forming on his forehead. There are always two conflicting sensations at once, the hot mingling with the cold, the light tickle with the sharp sting, the pleasure and the pain. And underneath everything is Harvey, the weight of his hands on Mike ever-present as he touches him virtually everywhere.

It’s worshipful. Mike can’t describe it any other way. There’s so much devotion, so much care he treats his body with even as he hurts him, that makes him feel more appreciated than he ever has in his life.

And always, always there is that look.

It’s hard not to close his eyes, but Mike fights the impulse with every ounce of his strength, the desire to hold Harvey’s gaze and seek whatever is hidden in them stronger than the urge to let the sensations take him. He remains in the space between Harvey’s touch and his eyes on him, hopelessly locked into his orbit as the outside world fades away.

His cock is leaking now, yearning for the slightest touch, but there’s only a small part of his brain that even acknowledges it. Most of him is occupied with Harvey and the spell he is putting on him so effortlessly, like it takes him nothing at all to draw Mike to him like a moth to the flame.

He is everywhere, everywhere Mike looks, everywhere he goes or his mind wanders. He’s always there, in everything he does, like he has become part of him that he couldn’t get out any more than the air in his lungs or the blood running through his veins.

It still pains him, to be so addicted to something that will never satisfy him, but he’s beginning to make his peace with it. Nothing he can do about it. Nothing but take everything he can get for as long as it lasts.

This, right now, lasts for what feels like ages. It can’t have been longer than an hour, though Mike got lost in the sensation at one point, but it’s not the first time that the minutes stretch into the immeasurable in here. It doesn’t matter how long it lasts. All Mike cares about is that it feels like he’s floating, like Harvey is making him transcend his physical form until he flies.

He slows down eventually, spacing the sensations out as he brings Mike down again. He doesn’t let him come, but Mike didn’t expect him to, and he isn’t disappointed in the slightest. That has long stopped being his goal. He doesn’t need it to feel the peace spreading in him, the quiet tranquility that paints everything just as sweet as the release he isn’t being granted tonight.

He’s getting this; being wrapped up in his blanket by Harvey’s gentle, sure hands, feeling him pull him closer, inhaling his familiar scent as he embraces him just a little too tenderly, and that’s so much better. That’s everything.

“You comfortable?” Harvey murmurs, and Mike sighs, his eyes falling shut as he nods.

He feels utterly spent, never mind that he didn’t come. He’s warm, and light, and Harvey’s arms make him feel safer than they have any right to, like he can shield him from the world outside or the chaos in his mind somehow. This is as comfortable as he can get.

Harvey chuckles softly. Through the haze in his mind, it almost sounds sad to Mike.

“You’re so uninhibited. You’re not ashamed of what you feel, are you? You wear your heart on your sleeve and you don’t even care. I’ve never seen anything like it. Everything you do, it’s so… earnest. Genuine. You have no idea how much I love it.”

Mike opens his eyes, his heart skipping a painful beat before it starts pounding.

 _Love_. It’s amazing, how he can throw the word around like it means nothing. Like it doesn’t cut Mike straight to the bone to hear it from his lips.

“You do?”

“So much,” Harvey agrees.

“Then show me.”

Mike is breathless with his own boldness when Harvey meets his eyes. It’s something between a plea and a dare, but it doesn’t matter what Harvey takes it as, because Mike knows he won’t turn down either.

The moment stretches. Mike is painfully aware of every passing second as they look at each other, marked by the thudding of his heart. And then Harvey leans in, stopping inches from his face to gently cradle his jaw before he brings their lips together. And even though Mike wanted him to, hoped for it so much that it hurt, he wasn’t prepared for how it feels in the slightest.

Every time. It breaks his heart every single time, and yet he keeps coming back, keeps asking for more.

It’s just warm pressure at first. They’re only touching, feeling each other. Mike’s heart is in his throat.

Surprisingly, it’s not Harvey who moves first. It’s like he’s lost in the touch, in their lips on each other, how they fit together. He makes a quiet sound in the back of his throat, impossible to put into words but resonating within Mike all the same, and he doesn’t even think about it, tilting his head just slightly as he shifts against him because he needs him closer, he needs _more._

His lips slide over Harvey’s, warm and familiar and exhilarating, and Harvey responds at once, parting his mouth just slightly to grant him access. Mike licks over the seam, the taste making him sigh, and Harvey echoes the sound, inhaling sharply as he angles his head to deepen the kiss.

They both groan when their tongues meet, and suddenly the quiet touch isn’t enough anymore. Harvey shifts, his breath coming faster as his fingers tighten on Mike’s face, and Mike arches his back to get closer, licking over his lip.

The sound Harvey makes is positively sinful. Mike’s chest heaves as he presses against him instinctively, the few points where their bodies connect not nearly enough to satisfy him.

Harvey hisses when Mike gives him a gentle bite, immediately covering the spot with soft pecks in silent apology, but he just tightens his hold on him and grazes his lip in encouragement, clearly not minding the rougher treatment in the slightest.

That’s fine by Mike. He’s more than ready to go all in.

His entire body is singing with the pure electricity of getting to feel Harvey this way, constantly pressing closer.

The intensity is overwhelming. Mike is dizzy with the rush of it, but it’s not his own breathing he hears through the blood rustling in his ears. It’s Harvey’s, coming fast and hard, too hard for him not to be into this, and the quiet sounds he lets out, accompanying Mike’s urgent little moans, only confirm his observation. It’s like he just can’t hold them back, like he doesn’t even notice he’s making them, too focused on Mike to pay attention to anything else.

The idea is so intoxicating that Mike feels drunk with it. This is simultaneously the best and worst kiss of his life – though it’s really more a make-out session at this point – because it’s so fucking easy to get lost in it and forget that it doesn’t mean what he wants it to. That it’s not real.

But it _is_ real. Mike isn’t making this up. They’re really kissing, and Harvey is holding on to him like he thinks he might slip away otherwise, and Mike is not the only one who just can’t make himself let go, who keeps going back for one more kiss. This is happening, and by god, it has to mean _something_. Harvey can’t kiss him like this and mean nothing by it. It would break Mike right in the middle.

It doesn’t stop. It’s like neither of them knows how to. It’s messy and uncoordinated, their open mouths sliding against each other as they meet again and again as if they just can’t get enough.

Mike, for one, knows that he can’t. And he knows his desperation is pouring into it, that this is so far from the innocent kiss they started out with, too much to come back from, but there is nothing he can do about it. He kisses Harvey with abandon, with everything he has, like it might be the very last time, but he doesn’t even care because Harvey is kissing him the exact same way.

He is the only thing he can think about anymore. The sound of his breathing, his chest heaving against his, the hand on his face, holding him tight but never too rough. He’s everywhere, making up Mike’s entire world for one blissful, endless moment.

And then he's gone, pulling back so suddenly that Mike nearly staggers, thrown out of the haze that has woven around his mind.

He blinks as he tries to regain his footing, too dazed to comprehend what’s going on. The sheets feel cold and empty where Harvey’s body was pressed against him mere seconds ago. Mike doesn’t understand the sudden distance, can’t process the unexpected shift from being so close to _this_.

He turns to Harvey for an explanation, trying to figure out what just happened.

Harvey looks positively shaken, darting away from Mike like he might burn him. There’s a spark of actual panic in his eyes when he reaches for him instinctively, and the sight makes him freeze on the spot.

Harvey lets out a shaky breath, never taking his eyes off him. Mike imagines that his hand trembles as he pushes it into his hair. “Shit,” he mutters. “We need to stop this.”

Mike blinks, his mouth dropping when Harvey gets up, apparently determined to bring as much distance between them as possible. “What?”

“Fuck. This isn’t… Veritas.”

“ _What?_ ”

“Veritas, Mike!” Harvey snaps, and then he turns around, leaving the room before Mike can as much as process his words.

He is left to blink after him, gaping as he tries to make sense of what just transpired.

“That's _my_ safeword!” he calls after him, the only coherent thought he can form, and then he scrambles up from the bed to follow him. He nearly trips over his blanket because Harvey doesn’t slow down, as if he could outrun him in his own apartment, as if he could escape this somehow if he just walked fast enough.

As if Mike would ever _not_ follow him anywhere.

“Harvey!“

“No.”

Mike finally catches up with him in the kitchen. Harvey still won’t meet his eyes, hasn’t since he stared at him like he was a gun about to go off, and it’s driving Mike insane. “What the fuck is going on? Hey!”

He grabs Harvey’s arm, who whirls around to face him. “We need to stop this, Mike! This can't- we have to end it.”

Mike’s heart stutters painfully.

_No._

This is his worst nightmare come true. It’s exactly what he tried to prevent from happening, and he doesn’t even know what he did wrong.

Everything was so perfect a minute ago. He just doesn’t understand what happened.

“ _Why?_ ”

“Because I said so, alright? Because it’s what’s best for you.”

Mike stares at him in disbelief. This can’t be happening. This is _not_ happening.

“What’s best for me?” he gets out. “What the hell makes you think- fuck that. What about what’s best for us? What happened to being in this together?”

“I’m not arguing with you about this,” Harvey says, but Mike is far from done with this conversation. It affects both of them, for god’s sake. He doesn’t get to decide this on his own.

“Oh yes, you are! You can’t just throw that at me without giving me an explanation. Fuck, Harvey, you _know_ what this means to me. I know it means something to both of us. What would possibly make you think that I’m better off without this?”

“Because you are. Goddamn it, Mike, just let it go-“

“The hell I will!”

“I’m not discussing this with you any longer!”

“You’re not discussing anything with me!” Mike snaps, trying to hold his gaze when Harvey turns away. “This is just you deciding this on your own out of fucking nowhere. You’re not even giving me a choice! You said I’d always have a choice in this, Harvey. What the fuck happened to that?”

Harvey’s shoulders tense. “The contract clearly states that either of us is free to terminate our agreement at any given time,” he states, his voice entirely factual and sober, and oh no, he doesn’t get to do that. He doesn’t get to act like this is a business deal, like he isn’t affected by this at all.

He doesn’t get to wreck Mike’s life without even looking at him.

“Fuck the contract,” Mike spits out. “And fuck you for throwing that in my face. I don’t understand what I did to make you change your mind like that, because I know for a fact you were pretty into what we were doing just a minute ago, but the least you can do is give me an explanation!”

Harvey finally turns around, a tight frown creasing his forehead as he meets his eyes. His entire stance screams defeat when he says, “You’ve done nothing wrong, Mike.”

Mike laughs hollowly. He can feel his sanity slipping away more and more with every second. “Oh, you’re gonna give me the classic ‘It’s not you, it’s me’ speech?”

“Mike-“

“You can shove that up your ass, Harvey. If it’s not anything I’ve done, then stop punishing me and fucking talk to me!”

Harvey closes his eyes, releasing a breath that seems to physically hurt him. Why is he doing this, if he’s in so much pain? Why does he insist on hurting both of them?

“I’m not punishing you.”

“Then cut out the bullshit excuses and tell me what the fuck is going on!”

His words ring in his ears in the following silence. Mike pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration.

“You’re really gonna do this to me? Well, I’ve got all the time in the world. I’ll fucking wait.”

Harvey exhales roughly. “You’re goddamn infuriating.”

“Says the one who’s acting like a fucking child right now,” Mike shoots back, grim satisfaction spreading in him when Harvey’s jaw clenches. “What, you’re gonna deny it? Then fucking _talk_ to me, Harvey. Why in god’s name do you think this is what’s best for me? How can you look at me right now and not see that it’s tearing me apart?”

Again, Harvey doesn’t speak. At this point, Mike didn’t expect him to.

“Do you want me to beg? Because I’ll beg, right now.”

“Of course I don’t want you to beg!” Harvey snaps. “For god’s sake, Mike. I want you to get what you deserve, and that’s not to fucking beg me when I’ve-“

He cuts off, taking a deep breath.

“I want you to be happy. I want you to be safe. That’s all I fucking want. Don’t make this so goddamn hard on both of us.”

“Then tell me what’s going on so we can fix it!”

“There’s nothing to fix.”

“Bullshit!” Mike yells, desperation making him lose the last of his composure. “Bullshit, Harvey. This is all such fucking bullshit. Look at me! Why the fuck won’t you talk to me? Why can’t you even look at my goddamn face? You look at me all the time, why not now? Because you fucking know this is bullshit, that’s why!”

Harvey stares at him. The air is so thick with tension that he could cut it with a knife.

Mike’s stomach twists when a thought creeps into his head. It’s a reach, but he’s more than willing to go out on a limb if there’s even the slightest chance that it could save him somehow. He swallows, his voice sounding foreign to his own ears when he asks, “Is that what this is about? The way you fucking look at me all the damn time?”

Harvey turns away, looking pained. He sounds more defeated than Mike has ever heard him when he says, “Goddamn it, Mike. I’m not asking anymore. I’m begging you here. Just stop.”

“No.” Mike shakes his head. “Not until you start talking to me. You want me to stop, then give me an answer. Tell me if what I’m thinking is crazy, tell me if I lost my mind, just _please_ tell me the goddamn truth!”

Desperation is loosening his tongue, the thoughts pouring out without his conscious decision.

“Mike-“

Harvey is still keeping up his guards. He is taking all the words falling from Mike’s lips and giving him nothing in return, and Mike can’t take his silence any longer. He just can’t.

“The truth, Harvey! Are you or are you not in love with me?”

For a terrifyingly expanding moment, he hears nothing at all but the persistent rustling in his ears.

It’s deafening. His own words render him speechless. Harvey is staring at him, his lips parted, no sound coming out.

Mike’s head swims. He is helplessly frozen in place, returning his look, waiting for something to happen, anything at all.

Harvey still doesn’t move.

He’s just silent.

Mike didn’t mean to say it. He didn’t plan on it. It was a Hail Mary, but he’s at the end of his rope. The foundation they’ve built that he’s been holding on to, that he thought was indestructible, has started to shake, and it’s sent him reeling, unable to stay rational when faced, for a terrible, suffocating moment, with the possibility that he may actually lose it all. This was never going to last, but he’s not ready to give it up yet. Harvey’s affection, in whatever shape it comes, is not something Mike can imagine living without anymore.

But there’s that look in Harvey’s eyes.

There’s the silence that still stretches, that gives, and gives, and if there weren’t so many things they aren’t saying hidden in it, surely it would have ended by now.

It has to mean something. It _has_ to.

There’s the way Harvey touches him, and the devotion he kissed Mike with, and how his voice softens when he whispers to him in the quiet after their scenes and god damn it, Mike is just _done_. He is down to his last two percent. He is on his knees, literally and figuratively. It’s all or nothing now, and the possibility of the latter is bleak enough to give him the final push he needed.

They talked about this once, going the last thirty percent without knowing where it would lead. _In some instances it might backfire,_ Harvey said _. Depending on what’s on the line, you have to decide if that’s a gamble you want to take._

And yes, it may ruin everything. It may be the last time the truth is spoken between them. But if the alternative is just nothing, he is more than willing to take a leap of faith.

He is already looking at the worst possible outcome, and it’s scaring him more than anything. Compared to that, the possibility of rejection holds no power over him.

Mike isn’t afraid of anything anymore.

“Ask me,” he demands when it becomes clear that he isn’t going to get an answer, his voice firmer now.

Harvey’s expression closes off. “Mike-“

It’s the first word he has spoken since Mike took the plunge, and it’s not what he wants to hear. “Are you kidding me? Fucking ask me, Harvey!”

Harvey’s eyes search his face. Eventually he straightens, his jaw clenching as he asks, “Are you in love with me?”

“Yes,” Mike says before he has even finished. “Yes, I fucking am. Do you even- Fuck. Of course I’m fucking in love with you, Harvey.”

It’s so easy all of a sudden. The weight he’s been carrying around for weeks, the secret he didn’t dare to betray lest it ruined everything, it’s out there now, in the end amounting to nothing more than a few jumbled words.

Mike takes a deep breath. It feels like the first one in months.

It’s a liberating sensation, but it’s overshadowed by the wondrous expression unfolding on Harvey’s face, because Mike just confessed his feelings for him and he doesn’t look uncomfortable, doesn’t look pitiful, or sympathetic, or alarmed.

Instead, he looks positively struck. Like he didn’t expect it. Like he honestly didn’t see it coming. Mike would laugh, if he didn’t have a dozen more urgent things on his mind.

“What are you-“

Harvey doesn’t get further than that. He stumbles backwards when Mike collides with him, catching him around the waist reflexively as he kisses him like his life depends on it.

It might.

Harvey’s lips are warm and soft, achingly familiar in the way they feel on his, but none of that matters, because Harvey is kissing him back, and that’s the final proof Mike needed that he isn’t the only one who wants this.

It may as well have been their first. Kissing Harvey has never felt like this before, never left him this delirious with pure joy. It’s completely overwhelming, and Mike gladly surrenders to it as Harvey’s arms tighten around him.

He wants this. He _wants_ this. Harvey really wants him the same way Mike does.

They wasted so much time. So much time they could have spent loving each other out loud, kissing whenever they felt like it, doing _this_.

Mike growls, letting go of Harvey to tear at his buttons, not caring about any collateral damage as the urge to catch up on lost time takes over. Harvey clearly doesn’t mind either, his hands joining Mike’s at once, helping him rip open his shirt until his chest is bare.

Mike yanks the fabric off his shoulders. He groans against his lips at the feeling of their skin touching, grateful that he himself never got dressed, and Harvey echoes the sound, tilting his head to deepen the kiss as he bites his lip hungrily.

The ache spreads quickly, a sharp sting that sends shocks of pleasure through him. Mike feels like he's soaring. He's flying, high in a way none of their scenes ever left him, too much for his mind to process and yet so goddamn far from enough.

 _Not enough, not enough, not enough_.

“Come on,” he urges, tugging at his arm. “Come on, bedroom, I need to-“

“Yeah,” Harvey murmurs, gripping him so tightly that Mike hisses, “yeah, let’s-“

They stumble into the bedroom together, too busy freeing Harvey of his remaining clothes to concern themselves with trivialities like full sentences. Now is not the time to talk. Now they need to feel each other close, to reaffirm the life-changing revelations of tonight, to show each other with actions what they just said with words.

They both sigh when they finally drop on the mattress, their limbs entangled. The sound makes them stop short, taking a moment to just look at each other. Mike starts laughing first, a breathless and giddy sound as the ridiculousness of the situation catches up with him, the sheer joy of being here, and Harvey soon joins in, like he can’t quite believe it either.

“We’re here,” Mike murmurs, tracing the angles of Harvey’s face in wonder.

“We are,” Harvey says, letting him explore as he gazes at him. Mike licks his lips, his heart beating a steady rhythm as he touches him. It hurts, but in the very best way. In the way that feels like he is bursting with the love he wants to give him.

Now he finally can.

“God,” he gets out, shaking his head. “God, Harvey, I-“

“I know.” Harvey lowers his head, leaving gentle kisses along his jaw. “Me too.”

Mike sighs, his hand slipping around the back of his neck. “This is…”

“Yeah,” Harvey agrees.

They look at each other, breaking into a chuckle at the same time.

“I wanna kiss you so much,” Mike says, just because he can. Harvey’s face softens.

“Come here,” he murmurs, still smiling when he meets Mike halfway.

This kiss is light, sweet with their giddiness and almost innocent in its nature, but it doesn’t stay that way for long. The urgency to be closer is too strong to ignore with the way their naked bodies are moving together. Despite everything they have done over the past few months, Mike has never felt Harvey like this. This is the first time they are both naked, their whole bodies entwined, no rules dictating what’s going to happen next. It’s the first time Mike feels Harvey’s cock against his, has his body all over him without anything separating or holding them back.

He groans when Harvey emphasizes the point by grinding against him, and he tightens his grip on him while his other hand reaches between them reflexively, the urge to finally touch Harvey however he wants simply overwhelming.

His hand closes around Harvey’s cock, relishing the warm weight of it, a little slimmer than his own, a little longer, a slight upward curve, none of which truly matters because Mike would have adored him no matter what, but it just so happens that he feels _perfect_ in his palm, and that’s almost as satisfying as the sound Harvey lets out at the touch.

“Fuck,” he mutters the same moment Mike gasps, “Oh god,” and they both chuckle again, the breathless sounds making them move together in a way that is too arousing to say anything more.

Their lips find each other naturally, the muffled sighs Harvey lets out against him sending waves of need through him. Mike loves the feeling of Harvey in his hand, and the weight of his body on top of him is heavenly, but his own cock is aching with neglect, and he needs _more_.

He breaks the kiss, Harvey’s taste on his lips as he licks them before he pants, “Lube?”

“Yeah, hold on.”

Harvey steals another kiss before he grabs the bottle from the drawer. He pecks Mike’s lips again, softly, and hands him the lube before he rolls off him and leans back against the pillows.

The message is loud and clear, and Mike can’t help but smile. Whatever they do is up to him. The decision is his. This has nothing to do with what they get up to every Friday night. This is their relationship, and Harvey is making it clear that there is no question that Mike has as much say in it as he does.

Mike never thought there was, but he adores Harvey for making it a point anyway. And having control over what happens next suits him just fine, because Mike knows exactly what he wants to do.

It’s less a matter of wanting and more of needing it, like he needs the air filling his lungs, because he has yearned for this for so long, has wanted to be close to Harvey like this since the first time they slept together, and he is done waiting.

He swings one leg over Harvey, settling on his thighs. The position is unfamiliar, the new perspective strangely exciting.

Spreading a generous amount of lube on his hand, he lifts his hips to reach behind himself, grateful that he had a thorough shower earlier – he always does, just in case Harvey decides that he wants to fuck him this time.

Harvey bites his lip, watching hungrily as Mike probes at his entrance, wasting no time to get one finger in.

A strangled grunt escapes him at the stretch, not unexpected but still demanding in its intensity. Harvey’s hand comes up to his leg, giving him a gentle caress, if in comfort or encouragement, Mike doesn’t know. No that it matters. His cock twitches at the proximity, and he takes a deep breath, willing the burn to subside.

Harvey’s hand stays on his thigh, brushing the sensitive skin, and Mike doesn’t even notice how it holds his attention until he realizes the absence of his discomfort that Harvey sufficiently distracted him from.

Mike glances at the small smile playing on his lips and thinks that maybe that was his plan all along.

It’s so typical for Harvey. Mike can’t help but lean in and kiss him again, sighing at the slight friction the movement offers. He uses the changed position to add another finger, groaning against Harvey’s mouth.

It’s still tight, but he can feel himself getting accustomed to the stretch until he can breathe through the burn easily. It subsides more and more with every inhale, mingling with his mounting arousal until there’s no room for anything else.

Mike can feel the arousal lapping at him in every part of his body now. Harvey kisses him through it as he opens himself, hardly feeling the pressure at this point, nearly buzzing out of his skin with need.

He can tell Harvey is equally affected. His breath is coming fast as he touches Mike endlessly, giving his own cock the occasional stroke, but he doesn’t move otherwise, leaving it to him to set the pace.

Mike admires his ability to wait so patiently. He himself isn’t anywhere near as composed. He gets ready as fast and thoroughly as he can, muscle memory taking over as his attention keeps getting diverted by Harvey beneath him. His eyes are on him the entire time, taking in every shift of his expression, and the look in them burns straight through him until he can barely breathe.

“Okay,” Mike mutters, withdrawing to grab more lube. “Okay, I’m good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, let’s go, I’m-“

“Alright, that’s it,” Harvey murmurs in encouragement, groaning when Mike wraps a hand around him to slick him up. “Oh god. That’s- shit.”

Teasing him is far from Mike’s mind right now, but with Harvey’s cock in his palm, he can’t help slowing down just a little, taking the time to give his hand a gentle twist as he spreads the lube on him. He smirks when Harvey throws him a look, then licks his lips and decides that this was more than enough preparation.

He moves up Harvey’s hips until he’s hovering just above his cock, his stomach tightening in anticipation. Harvey’s hand slides up to his sides, steadying him as he murmurs, “Like this?”

“Yeah. Wanna see you.”

It thrills him to voice his desires so shamelessly, not having to think about whether he’s revealing too much of himself. Harvey just nods, like he finds the request perfectly reasonable instead of overly sentimental. The fact that he probably does, because he feels the same way, shares the inexplicable urge inside him that drives him to constantly get closer, makes him laugh in quiet wonder.

Harvey takes his expression in, a smile on his own lips. He doesn’t question it, instead just asking, “You ready?”

“Yeah. You?”

Harvey chuckles breathlessly. “Never been more ready in my life,” he says, and Mike joins in, the sound dying in his throat when he probes at his entrance with the tip of his cock. He slowly increases the pressure, his body giving way, and on his next deep exhale he sinks down a few inches until Harvey is inside.

He wasn’t prepared for how it feels in the slightest. It’s overwhelming. Harvey is so close, everywhere, taking up all the space in his head. The stretch is deep, very different from his fingers, but it’s bearable. More than that, it keeps Mike in the moment, the tightness bordering on painful mingling with the pleasure of the fullness and the dazzling knowledge that this is _Harvey_ he’s feeling.

He’s familiar with this part, and he doesn’t mind taking it slow now, with Harvey finally inside him. It’ll just be a moment before he’s good to go, and this new closeness keeps him adequately distracted while his body does the rest.

The burn subsides and eventually vanishes. All that’s left is the delicious, addictive heat and tightness of being joined like this, and Mike takes another deep breath and lowers himself all the way, a moan escaping him when Harvey is fully seated.

“Fuck,” Harvey groans, the single hottest word Mike has ever heard, a claim he quickly takes back when he goes on to murmur his name like a prayer. “You’re so- fuck, are you alright? Is this-“

“God, yeah. It is. I’m fine. More than fine. It’s- shit, Harvey.”

“Oh god,” Harvey pants, squeezing his eyes shut as he takes a deep breath before immediately opening them again, like he couldn’t bear to miss even a second of this.

“Yeah,” Mike sighs, giving his hips an experimental buck. Harvey’s fingers dig into him.

“Fuck, Mike, this is-“

He cuts himself off with another curse, and it’s so unfamiliar to see Harvey losing his composure like this, for him to allow himself to be seen in this way, that Mike can only stare at him in wonder.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs, and it really is, it’s more than okay, it’s the most he has ever felt – not even the best, or happiest, just the absolute most he can imagine feeling at once. Harvey meets his eyes, whole paragraphs passing between them. He cradles his face gently.

“You’re amazing,” he tells him, his voice filled with reverence, and Mike closes his eyes and tries to breathe past the lump in his throat.

“You’re one to talk,” he mutters, and they both smile, even as the urgency of their position takes over again.

Harvey licks his lips. “Can I-“

Mike nods. “Absolutely. Yeah. Come on.”

Harvey puts his hands on his hips, a look of awed concentration on his face. His movements are small, testing the waters first before he goes all in, but Mike feels them through and through, his entire focus narrowing down to the point where they connect.

“Again,” he murmurs, and Harvey complies, thrusting a little harder this time. It’s still shallow, letting him adjust to the tight fit, but it’s finally something tangible, something he can grasp. It’s _good_ , and Mike groans lowly, hanging his head.

“Alright?” Harvey pants, his eyes roaming his face, and Mike nods avidly, resisting the urge to laugh with how light he feels all of a sudden.

“It’s okay, I’m fine. I’m great. This is great.”

Harvey keeps staring at him, but chuckles. “Yeah,” he says, his voice rough and full of wonder. “It is.”

He jerks his hips a few times, his hands brushing Mike’s sides endlessly. His body adjusts more and more, giving way for the tingling arousal coiling in his stomach until it’s all he feels anymore.

Mike sighs, half in relief, half in pleasure, and when he bucks his hips, he can’t help but laugh quietly anyway.

“Amazing,” he whispers in awe, seeing the same sentiment reflected in Harvey’s eyes, and he leans in to kiss him without thought before he slowly rolls his hips, tasting the groan on Harvey’s lips.

They start moving by unspoken agreement, meeting each other for every thrust as they figure out their pace. It’s a bit jerky, a bit improvised, no real rhythm to the movements of their hips, but it feels heavenly. Being close to Harvey like this, having him all around and inside him, the slick slide of their bodies meeting each other again and again, it’s beyond anything Mike could put into words despite his rather impressive vocabulary.

The feeling of being joint fills every part of him, keeping his heart beating, flooding his veins at the speed of light until his entire system runs on it.

It doesn’t matter that it’s not perfect, that they’re still figuring things out as they go along. This isn’t a performance, this is trial and error, finding their footing, getting to know each other all over again, and it is, it _is_ perfect. Mike doesn’t care one bit that his thighs are starting to ache with the strain or that Harvey misses his prostate on most thrusts. The angle is a bit off, but this, getting to look at him as they move together, watching his composure crumble bit by bit, is too good to pass up on.

Besides, when he does hit the right spot, it feels all the better.

Harvey absorbs the startled noise he lets out hungrily, immediately trying to draw it from him again. They’re spurring each other on, Mike’s response driving Harvey to move faster, his hard thrusts making the sounds slip past his lips easily.

Their shared panting and the sounds they make without quite meaning to fill the air, and it’s good, it’s so, so good, but it’s not enough. Mike wants more, always wants more.

They pick up their pace in silent agreement, letting the other’s sounds and the pleasure growing inside them dictate their rhythm. Mike feels a sheen of sweat forming on him. His thighs are burning, but he lets the ache fuel him as he chases the pleasure that’s already building in his muscles.

He can feel the familiar waves of it lapping at him, and he doesn’t want this to end, doesn’t ever want to let go of what he has found here, but he looks at Harvey beneath him, and it’s all he needs to know that he won’t have to.

Harvey loves him, and Mike loves Harvey, and this is only the beginning of everything they are going to do together now that they finally _know_.

“This is it,” Mike murmurs, leaning in to catch Harvey’s lips again.

His chest heaves when he draws back enough to look at him. “What?”

“The last thirty percent.”

Harvey stares at him, looking almost pained before he lifts his head and captures Mike’s mouth again, kissing him as deeply as if he’s trying to pour everything he can’t say into the touch.

It works. For the first time in ages, maybe ever, Mike understands perfectly what Harvey is telling him, what this means and where they stand with each other.

Together. They stand together. Always have, always will. He can see that now. It doesn’t matter that Harvey is the one who takes and Mike the one who gives, that they thrive on tipping the balance every once in a while, that Mike adores dropping to his knees and Harvey loves keeping him there. They are in this together, as equals, feeling the same thing and just expressing it in a different way. They stand together, and when they let themselves fall, they fall together too.

It starts slowly, the tension forming in Mike’s muscles so perfectly in harmony with the intensity of what he’s feeling that he doesn’t even notice at first. It’s a steady build, the pleasure spreading in him until it’s everywhere, and by the time he realizes, it’s too late to stop.

He knows Harvey can tell how close he is by the stutter of his hips, the contractions of his muscles, his parted lips and erratic breathing. One hand moves up his side endlessly in silent encouragement as the other closes around Mike’s cock, applying just the right pressure to tip him over the edge.

“Let go,” he murmurs. “Let go, I’ve got you.”

Mike whimpers, feeling the last of his control slip away.

“I love you so much,” he chokes out, the only coherent thought he can still form. And finally, it’s enough.

Harvey strokes him as he spends himself, the sweet shocks running through him in quick, jarring pulses, and Mike gladly sinks into the waves of blissful release.

“Fuck, Harvey, Harvey, I’m- oh god, Harvey-“

He’s babbling, saying his name over and over, telling him that he loves him, but he has no control over the words spilling from his lips, no filter keeping him from saying exactly what he’s feeling. Harvey murmurs something to him, sweet nothings accompanying his stream of words as he touches him so gently, and Mike remembers that he doesn’t need one.

There is no reason to hide anymore. Harvey can see all the parts of him that he never let show before, those bits he feared would unravel everything if they ever came to light, that became such an integral part of him that it felt like he kept his very soul a secret from the one he wanted it to see most.

He only realizes now that hiding this from Harvey made him feel more like a fraud than his lacking degree ever did, and the relief of finally being able to be honest, to express the monumental feelings he’s carrying within himself, only adds to his elation.

“Oh god,” he groans when the waves of pleasure finally subside, leaving behind a blissful exhaustion that mixes with the weightlessness inside him so wonderfully that it’s like his heart is pumping pure joy through his body.

Mike has never, in his entire life, felt this light.

Harvey is staring at him reverently when he becomes aware of his surroundings again, his lips parted with desire.

A breathless chuckle escapes Mike when he grabs him around the waist, flipping them over with more grace than he would have thought possible. He kisses him gently once he’s on his back, then draws back to cup his cheek.

“So beautiful,” he murmurs.

The praise sends a languorous shiver down his body.

“Now you,” Mike sighs, remembering that Harvey has yet to come.

Harvey nods, but doesn’t move. Mike chuckles. “Come on,” he murmurs, patting his shoulder lightly. “You can finish, it’s fine. Wanna see you come.”

Harvey swallows, entering him again with a slow thrust. Mike groans, his body almost too sensitive now, but nods in reassurance when Harvey glances at him.

“Go on. I’m good.”

Harvey lets out a breathless chuckle. “Yeah, me too,” he mutters, leaning in to kiss him as he starts moving again. Mike wraps his legs around his hips, meeting him for every thrust.

Harvey’s pace is relentless now, almost impatient. Mike lets out a little moan at every snap of his hips, encouraging him with his kisses, biting at his lip when it gets too much. Harvey groans, the last of his control shattering at the teasing.

His rhythm becomes irregular, each of his thrusts shaking Mike to the core. He digs his hand into Harvey’s shoulder, one arm slung around his waist to pull him closer as he signals him to keep going, to take what he needs. He feels his hot breath on his skin when he presses wet, openmouthed kisses to whatever part of him he can reach, more a slick slide of his lips and tongue than anything else. Mike _loves_ them.

“God, Mike, you’re so good. This is-“

His fingers dig into his waist where he’s holding him in place, hard enough to leave marks. The thought leaves Mike delirious with desire.

“Mark me,” he mutters, pressing up against him. “Please, Harvey. Show me I’m yours.”

Harvey makes a helpless sound, his grip on Mike tightening until he’s aching with it, gritting his teeth to withstand the dull pain.

“Fuck, yeah,” he gets out, clenching around him when he feels Harvey’s hips stuttering. “Come on, like that-“

“Fuck, you’re so good, so fucking- beautiful-” Harvey groans, the deep rumbling of his voice sending shivers down Mike’s spine, and he throws his head back when Harvey pushes in for a few final staggering thrusts.

“Shit, I love you, Harvey, I love you, love you…”

His mind is still up in arms with the haze of his release and the sweet nothings Harvey keeps whispering to him, but it all comes to a brief, blissful halt when he stops in his movements and utters, his voice thick with desire, “I love you too, Mike. God.” He shakes his head, his eyes roaming his face in wonder and something Mike only now recognizes, only now truly understands when he adds, “More than anything.”

His hands slide down Mike’s sides and he bucks his hips, just once more, twice, before he tenses, pulling out seconds before he spends himself. Mike is too caught up in the sight of him, the almost pained expression on his face, his little moans as he comes to give him a hand, but it doesn’t matter. Next time he’ll make sure to pay attention to everything he missed today. And the time after that, and the one after that.

A giddy laugh bubbles up in him at the thought, at the fact that for some unfathomable reason he got so lucky as to call this his reality, and Harvey doesn’t ask, just joins in as he slumps on top of him.

Mike sighs when the quiet takes over again. “That was…”

“Yeah,” Harvey agrees.

“Considerate of you,” Mike finishes, snorting at Harvey’s expression.

“Believe me, there was nothing altruistic about it. I’m not letting you out of this bed for anything, not even to take a shower.”

“You could take a shower with me,” Mike points out, playing with the tips of his hair.

“Oh, I will. Eventually. But not right now.”

“Is the great Harvey Specter admitting that I wore him out?” Mike teases, and Harvey snorts softly, finally rolling off him.

Putting his hand over Mike’s heart, still pounding hard enough for him to feel it, he asks, “You sure I didn’t wear _you_ out?”

“Let’s say we did a pretty god job of exhausting each other,” Mike amends, and Harvey hums in agreement.

They fall silent, their elevated breathing the only sound in the room.

“It _was_ amazing,” Mike then says, and Harvey lets out a soft chuckle.

“That’s an understatement.”

“Fucking outstanding?”

“That, too.”

“Really awesome. Wonderful. Marvelous.”

Harvey throws him a look.

“Unprecedented,” Mike continues, a smile growing on his lips. “Absolutely incredible. Out of this world.”

“Mike.”

“Kind of indescribable.”

Harvey groans. “Shut up.”

“Come on. You dig it.”

“I do not.”

“You _love_ it.”

“Mike.”

“I love you,” Mike says, the impulse to tell him too strong to keep it inside. He wonders how he ever held it back.

Harvey’s expression softens.

“Come here,” he murmurs, gazing at him as he rolls over. “I love you too,” he says, cupping his cheek like he’s holding his most precious possession in his palms, and leans in.

They are both too sluggish to do more than some lazy kissing, never straying from the gentle side now that the saturation of their release is settling in their bones, but Mike still sighs wistfully when Harvey draws back.

He rolls onto his side, snuggling closer. The hair on his arms rises as he cools down, but Harvey’s body is enough to keep him warm.

It’s a bit complicated to cuddle with the come slowly drying on his skin, but Mike certainly isn’t about to move to do anything about it, not when Harvey’s arms are right here to hold him.

“We should probably get this mess cleaned up,” he points out, lacking any motivation to actually follow through on his words. Harvey hums, stretching until he catches a box of tissues from his nightstand.

Supporting himself on his elbow, he frees him from the traces of their release. When he finishes by placing a soft kiss on his lips, dropping the tissues over the side of the bed carelessly, Mike smiles.

“Thanks.”

“We can talk about that shower later,” Harvey murmurs, pulling the duvet over them.

Mike nods. “Much later,” he says around a yawn.

“Tomorrow,” Harvey agrees. Mike’s eyes are already closed, but he still catches the short pressure on his hair before he mutters, “Good night, sweetheart.”

He barely gets out the answering words before his exhaustion overpowers him and he drifts off, feeling warm and safe with Harvey’s body nestled against his.

When he next opens his eyes, the room is just barely illuminated by the city lights falling through the windows. He can’t have slept for long, but he feels much more rested than he has in weeks. Months, perhaps. His gaze wanders to Harvey first thing, and he’s not entirely surprised to find him awake as well.

“Can’t sleep?”

His voice is a little scratchy. Harvey smiles at the sound before he shakes his head. “I’m thinking,” he murmurs.

Mike rolls onto his side. “What about?”

Harvey reaches out to brush a strand of hair from his face. “You. The two of us, together.” He exhales deeply. “You and I have so much to talk about.”

Mike smiles, because for once, the prospect of coming clean doesn’t scare him. “Now?”

“Why not?”

“You’re right. The best conversations happen in the middle of the night, anyway.”

Harvey huffs out a quiet laugh. “The most honest ones, too,” he says.

“True,” Mike agrees. “And those that are most overdue, I guess.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Harvey echoes, his eyes never leaving his face. He takes Mike’s hand, giving it a firm squeeze. Mike didn’t need the reassurance, but he appreciates it anyway.

“How long?” Harvey then asks, growing more serious.

“Since I realized? A while. Back when I had that panic attack. Afterwards, I mean. When you were holding me and calming me down and I realized that you were the only home I’d ever known.” Mike exhales quietly. “Since I actually fell in love with you? Much, much longer.”

Harvey is silent. “How much longer?”

“I don’t know. I’m not sure, honestly, and believe me, I’ve tried to pinpoint when it happened countless times. But it wasn’t just one moment, I guess. It was a process. I think I was already well on my way when we started this. And with every scene we did, every day we spent together between them, I just… fell a little deeper.”

He meets Harvey’s eyes, smiling a little as he shakes his head. “How did you not know? I felt like it was so obvious. Like it was written all over my face whenever you looked at me. I thought you had to see it in everything I did. I mean, I was glad you didn’t, but I never understood how.”

Harvey rolls over. He’s mere inches from Mike’s body, his hand never leaving his.

“I only recently figured out just what I felt for you myself, and then I was quite busy considering what to do about it. About this.” He nods at the room. “I had no capacity to ask myself whether your affection went past the usual sub worship. And before that… I noticed how involved you were in this, but I was too, wasn’t I? It just felt… right. I never questioned it.”

He nudges Mike’s hip, his lips curved upwards. “Guess I’m not the smart one between the two of us. And if you ever tell anyone I said that, I’m going to deny it to the end of time.”

“I don’t plan on telling anyone about any of what’s transpiring in this bedroom, believe me.” Mike smiles, then lifts his shoulders. “It did take me a while as well, if it’s any consolation. I thought I was just abnormally jealous for some reason.”

“You were-“

“Jealous? God, yeah. I still am, if I’m honest. The thought of you with that other sub, anyone who isn’t me, really, it’s just-“ He grimaces, shaking his head. “Don’t tell me you didn’t know. Why do you think I asked for you to stop sceneing with other people?”

“I thought it was something like that.” Harvey regards him curiously. “That you were jealous, in a way. As my sub. I just didn’t know it went… beyond that.”

Mike huffs.

“Understatement,” he mutters to himself. Harvey looks at him in amusement.

“You know you have absolutely no reason to be jealous, right?” he asks softly, brushing his cheek with the back of his hand. Mike’s breath catches. He’s still getting used to these casual touches, the clear signs of his affection outside of their scenes. “None whatsoever.”

“Well, I know now. You can reassure me whenever you feel like it, though.”

Harvey smiles. “I can do that,” he agrees, leaning in to close the distance between them. Mike wraps an arm around his waist, parting his lips to let him in.

The taste of him, though familiar by now, still sends shocks of excitement through him. He hopes that never stops. The kiss is long, deep enough to make Mike’s heart jolt, but it stays gentle. It’s about assurance rather than arousal, a desire to express what they’re feeling instead of sating their needs. Its heartfelt, deep innocence makes Mike ache in all the right ways.

When Harvey draws back, he smiles too. Inhaling the scent of his skin as he snuggles into his chest, he closes his eyes and sighs.

If this is what it’s going to be like from now on, then it was worth everything. All the struggling and pain and heartbreak it took to get here.

With Harvey’s arms so tightly around him, Mike wouldn’t change a damn thing.

*

“Good, you’re here already.”

“Where else would I be?” Mike asks dryly, leaning in for a quick kiss before he steps inside. While they spent more time together than apart even before confessing their feelings, they are practically attached at the hip now. It’s only been a few days, but Mike hasn’t spent a single night in his own bed since then. He always kept a spare suit at Harvey’s (at his insistence because ‘you never know with you’, whatever _that_ means), but Harvey has started throwing his stuff into the washing machine with his own, and so Mike has gradually been leaving more of his clothes at the condo because really, it’s just more practical this way.

So maybe it’s looking a little like Mike is moving in mere days after their relationship officially started, but it doesn’t feel like they are rushing into this in the slightest. It’s just a natural progression of something that began long ago that they are finally following through on.

They have spent too much time apart when they could have been together already. It might just be the honeymoon phase speaking, but there is no such thing as too much from Mike’s perspective. The absolute most is just enough to satisfy him.

“I wanted to talk to you about something,” Harvey explains, heading towards the living room.

“Yeah? What about?”

He snatches a document from the table. “I’m calling for an intervention.”

Mike snorts. “An intervention? Why, do I hog the blankets at night?”

“You do, but that’s not the point.” He waves the paper around. “We need to talk about the contract.”

Mike nearly trips over his own feet. “What-“

“Nothing like that,” Harvey assures him at once. “I just think we should go over a few parts. Reestablish some ground rules.”

Mike throws him a suspicious look, but sits down. “Alright. What sort of ground rules?”

Harvey takes a seat as well, folding his hands together. “You haven’t been entirely honest with me.”

Mike opens his mouth, but Harvey shakes his head. “I don’t mean this as a reproach in any way. I haven’t been honest with you either, after all. And I understand why. It just made me think that we both need to do better on that front. Because we may have had our reasons for keeping this to ourselves, but I still stand by what I said the first time we had this conversation. The most important thing about this is trust, and I can’t- I need to know that if something of this magnitude is ever going on with you again, you’ll tell me.”

The lines on his forehead deepen as he seeks Mike’s gaze. “Look, this whole thing, I can’t tell you how glad I am that you feel the same way I do. But it took us months to get here. It must have been eating at you for so long, and you never said anything. I never noticed.”

Mike swallows against the guilt welling up in him. “I didn’t want you to,” he says quietly.

“I know. And I get it. Like I said, I’m not blaming you for anything. But to think that this was right in front of me and I didn’t have the faintest idea-“

He cuts off, shaking his head.

“I don’t ever want you to go through something like that again and think that you can’t talk to me about it.”

Mike nods. “I understand that. I wouldn’t want you to, either. But I know something now that I didn’t before, and that was the only thing keeping me from telling you. I already trusted you with my life before that. Now that I know my feelings for you won’t ruin this between us, I have nothing to hide anymore.”

Harvey nods as well, leaning in. “Just to be clear, I’m not saying you have to tell me about every little thing that’s going on in your life. You letting me take part in that should come from you, not from a legally binding document. I just need you to understand that you _can_ talk to me. About anything.”

“I do. And I promise that I’ll never shut you out like that again. Whatever happens in my life, Harvey, you’re part of that. You’ll know.”

Harvey holds his gaze, and Mike heaves a relieved sigh when his lips curve upwards. “Then I’ll promise you the same in return.”

Mike smiles too. “Thank you.”

He gets up, taking the contract from Harvey’s hands before he settles on his lap. Harvey’s arms close around his waist at once. Mike gazes at him, silent reassurance passing between them, before he leans in and captures his lips in a gentle kiss.

He is happy to draw it out when Harvey chases his lips, and when they final break apart, staying close to each other, he’s smiling before he even opens his eyes.

“Harvey?”

“Yes?”

“You’re a good man.”

His smile grows at Harvey’s expression. “You’re a good man,” he repeats, “and I love you for it. I love you so much. And I can’t wait to prove it to you every day for the rest of our lives.”

Harvey smiles too, leaning his forehead against Mike’s.

“You don’t have anything to prove to me,” he says, his hand sliding up his back. “But I do like the sound of that.”

“Of the rest of our lives?”

Harvey nods.

“Yeah, me too.”

Mike places another kiss on his lips, wrapping his arms around his neck. It’s so wonderfully exciting, experiencing these little things with Harvey. Being close to him, knowing that he can enjoy the moment without having to worry about when it’s going to end. He never knew that just holding someone could make him feel this light, and he savors every second of it, remembering all too well when he lived with the weight of believing wholeheartedly that this was something he could never have.

Funny, how much can change in such little time.

“I want to take you out,” Harvey breaks the silence, his eyes searching Mike’s. Brushing his cheek, he adds, “Properly. We should have a date night. Just you and me and a fancy dinner somewhere you’ll probably object to because it’s unreasonably upscale. What do you say?”

Mike’s smile grows. “You know I don’t require a fancy dinner to agree to going out with you, right?”

“You mean you don’t want to be wined and dined?”

“No, I wasn’t saying that. Not at all. You can wine and dine me whenever you want. Go ahead, I’m right there with you.”

Harvey’s face lights up with his grin. Mike can’t help but gaze at him reverently. God, he is so hopelessly in love with this man.

For once, the thought doesn’t break his heart.

“Good. I want to spoil you,” Harvey declares. “You deserve it.”

Mike hums, smiling as well when he leans into his palm. “I like the sound of that. But I’ll only accept if you let me spoil you too.”

“I’m sure that can be arranged.”

“I’m sure it can,” Mike agrees, leaning in as he murmurs, “in fact, let me begin right now.”

This kiss tastes differently, their intention clear in the way their lips move together. Harvey is more than happy to go along with his plan. His hand slides down his waist, pulling him along as he guides them into a lying position.

“Eager, are we?” Mike teases, nipping Harvey’s jaw.

“I was promised to be spoiled,” Harvey points out, raising an expectant eyebrow. Mike kisses his smirk.

“You were,” he agrees. “And I’m sure you know that I always keep my promises.”

“Of course I do. It’s one of the things I love about you,” Harvey murmurs, and before Mike can ask what else is on that list he bucks his hips, making their beginning arousal brush so deliciously that he suddenly has much more urgent things on his mind.

They never make it to the bedroom, but that’s fine. It’s more than fine, actually. This, loving Harvey, being with him, it doesn’t have to be confined to that room anymore. Mike can love Harvey out here. He can love Harvey anywhere, declare it to the whole world, and most importantly right to Harvey’s face without ever having to hide it again.

It’s worth the pain in his back the sofa gives him.

Eager to return the favor of spoiling Mike, Harvey proposes the following day for their date night. He takes care of their reservations – where they’ll go or who he has to bribe to get there, Mike has no idea – and tells him that all he needs to do is meet him in his office by seven.

Mike spends the day buzzing with anticipation. He’s clearly not doing a great job of hiding his excitement, because when Rachel drops off something on his desk later, she stops to throw him a suspicious look.

“What’s got you in such a good mood?”

Mike tries to put on an innocent expression and fails spectacularly. “Nothing. I just… look forward to getting out of here.”

She nods knowingly. “Tell me about it. Got any plans?”

Mike considers her, only hesitating briefly before he says, “Actually, I’ve got a date.”

Rachel raises her eyebrows, leaning in with a smirk. “With the mysterious person you won’t tell me about?”

Mike laughs quietly. “You never did believe me that it wasn’t like that, did you?”

“Not for a second. So you worked things out?”

“You could say that.” He scratches his neck. “Look, up until now it really hasn’t been… like that. Not really.”

“But now it is?”

Mike can’t help the grin spreading on his face. “It is,” he agrees.

Rachel must be picking up on the pride in his stance, because she gives him a curious look, tilting her chin. “Does that mean you’ll finally tell me who it is?”

Mike licks his lips. Harvey and he agreed not to hide their relationship, and part of him can’t _wait_ to tell everyone, but it still thrills him to announce it for the first time. To finally be open about his feelings. And to Rachel, no less. They are long past their misguided attempts at romance by now, but it’s still part of their history, and this feels big somehow.

He takes a deep breath to steel himself.

“I… it’s, well. It’s Harvey.”

It’s impressive how many expressions Rachel’s face displays in the following silence. She blinks at him in incomprehension, then looks like she’s convinced he’s making a joke, but a closer glance at his face, the mix of apprehension and excitement as he waits for her reaction, tells her that he isn’t having a laugh. She stares at him, her mouth dropping before she gathers herself enough to ask, “You’re not kidding?”

Mike shakes his head. She takes in his barely suppressed giddiness, the smile he just can’t get off his face, and she starts grinning too, shaking her head in disbelief.

“Wow. So that weird tension between you _wasn’t_ just my imagination. And you never told me? I can’t believe it!”

“Trust me, I still find it quite hard to believe myself.”

“How did this happen? When did it happen? Mike, you have to tell me everything. I can’t believe you kept me in the dark for so long, we’re supposed to be friends!”

Mike bites his lip to hold back a laugh. “I’m afraid I’m contractually prohibited from telling you everything, but I’ll gladly let you in on what I can. Some other time, though. I really have to get this done.”

Taking his statement for a joke, she chuckles as she straightens. “Right. So you can get out of here in time for your date. With _Harvey_.”

He rolls his eyes despite his grin. “You’re never gonna let me live that down, are you?”

“Never,” she gives back over her shoulder, winking at him before she turns to leave. “You better don’t keep me waiting too long!”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he calls after her.

He finishes his work just in time to meet Harvey, who is sliding into his jacket as he shows up.

“There you are,” he greets him. “Ready to go?”

Mike takes in his soft smile and wants nothing more than to kiss him. He fears he may not stop there, though, and they are still at the office, so he just replies, “Ready? I was born ready.”

“Alright, Jack Burton.” Putting a hand on his back, Harvey nods at the door. “Then let’s get going. Ray’s waiting downstairs.”

They pass Donna at her desk on their way out, who gives them a mischievous smile.

“Donna,” Mike says, nodding at her.

“Mike.” She gives him a once-over. “Looking sharp.”

Mike preens. He chose this suit specifically for their date night, and her remark validates him in his decision.

“Thanks. I’d say the same about you, but you always do, so…”

She just huffs. “Of course I do. Well, don’t let me keep you. You two have somewhere to be, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Mike says carefully, glancing at Harvey. He just raises an eyebrow.

Donna grins. “Go on, enjoy yourselves. You know, on your _date_.”

Mike turns to Harvey. “Okay, you told her.”

Harvey lifts his shoulders. “Didn’t have to.”

“Please.” Donna scoffs. “Who are you talking to?”

Mike sighs, but he’s grinning when he says, “Right. Does that mean I have your stamp of approval?”

She gives him a look, but there’s a softness in her eyes when she says, “Mike, if you didn’t have my stamp of approval, you never would have gotten into that interview to meet Harvey in the first place.”

 “That’s… thanks, Donna.”

“You two are gross,” Harvey comments from the side, though Mike catches him smiling when he turns to him. “Can we leave now?”

“Of course. I wouldn’t want you to have to acknowledge your _feelings_ or anything.” Harvey rolls his eyes, steering him towards the elevators. Mike grins, glancing over his shoulder. “See you, Donna!”

“But not before ten tomorrow morning, or I’ll personally kick your ass!” she calls after them.

“I wouldn’t push my luck, you know,” Harvey murmurs, the hand on his back never leaving. “She’s more than capable of following through on that threat.”

“Don’t I know it,” Mike says, still smiling. Not that he was worried about her reaction, but it is a relief, knowing how close she and Harvey are. They have history too, not exactly like Mike and Rachel’s, but enough for him to value her opinion.

“By the way, Rachel knows. About us.”

Harvey lifts an eyebrow. “You told her?”

“Well, yeah. She’s my friend, and we said we wouldn’t hide, right? Besides, if Donna knows…”

“Rachel would have known by the end of the day anyway,” Harvey finishes.

“Right. And I’d rather she heard it from me.”

“Of course. I don’t mind that you told her.” The smug smile playing on his lips suggests that it’s rather the opposite, but before Mike can ask, he continues, “It just means that we have to get started on the paperwork for HR sooner or later. You know how fast the rumor mill around here works.”

Mike makes a face. “Well,” he says, shaking his head, “let’s enjoy our date first. We should still have some time to ourselves before that particular hell breaks loose.”

“Absolutely,” Harvey agrees. “Let’s not worry about that right now. Tonight is for spoiling you, after all.”

“I won’t say no to that.” Mike grins. “Speaking of, where are you taking me?”

“You’ll see,” Harvey says, a mysterious smirk on his lips.

Mike sighs. “I’ll just ask Ray.”

“You think he doesn’t have clear instructions to tell you nothing?”

Mike narrows his eyes. “You know, after making such a big deal out of this, you’d better deliver.”

Harvey just chuckles, like the mere thought of anything else is ludicrous.

Which, of course, it is.

“Daniel,” Mike says as he stares at the sign of the restaurant, not quite managing to hide how impressed he is. Turning to Harvey, he shakes his head. “How did you manage _that_?”

Harvey looks entirely too smug, but Mike can’t even blame him for it, not when he got them a table at one of the most sought-after restaurants in Manhattan.

“Are you questioning my abilities? I am the best closer in the city, you know.”

“Right, of course you are.” Mike tilts his head. “Someone here owed you a favor, didn’t they? I mean, I hope it’s that, because the only other option I can think of is that you actually bribed someone, and I think we’ve done enough illegal thi-“

“It was a perfectly legitimate arrangement,” Harvey cuts him off smoothly, shaking his head in amusement. “Just enjoy it.”

Mike lets out a dazed chuckle. “I’m sure I will,” he mutters. Then he glances at Harvey. “You remembered that I talked about wanting to come here once, didn’t you?”

“Perhaps I did.”

“Harvey Specter, are you, like, secretly a romantic?”

“Let’s go inside,” Harvey suggests, pointedly ignoring his massive grin as he leads him through the fancy door.

The inside of the restaurant is just as lofty as the entrance suggested. Mike gets distracted by the pillars and the high ceiling before he can really take in the details of the interior decoration.

In contrast to the white walls, there are shelves of dark wood that complement the chairs. A few pieces of art are on display, though not so many that it would hold his attention, just enough to give the room a sophisticated air. To top the image off, the sparse plants here and there give the room a few appealing spots of green and light color.

It’s surprisingly plain, if that word can be used to describe a place as upscale as this, though the fact takes nothing away from its elegance. The restaurant clearly relies on its ambience rather than excessive decorations, and it works. Mike spots numerous lamps that cast the whole room in a golden light and give everything a soft glow, creating a warm and welcoming atmosphere that instantly makes him relax. It’s undeniably high-end, but not in a way that leaves him feeling uncomfortable or out of place. It’s just the right amount of fancy to keep him from forgetting that this is special, without rubbing in their faces that the only reason they’re here is because they have money.

Harvey knew exactly what he was doing in taking him here out of all the restaurants he ever mentioned. This is already shaping up to be the greatest first date he has ever been on, and they haven’t even sat down yet.

“What do you say?” Harvey murmurs, pulling him from his thoughts.

“It’s alright, I guess,” Mike says lightly, chuckling when Harvey shakes his head.

“Wait till you see the food,” he tells him as a waiter approaches them. “It’s more than alright. Even you will appreciate it.”

“Even me,” Mike scoffs while they’re being shown their seats. Harvey doesn’t bother concealing his smirk. “So charming.”

Their table, of course, is nothing short of perfect. Mike should have known Harvey wasn’t going to settle for anything less, but he still appreciates the trouble he must have gone through to arrange this at such short notice. It’s secluded enough for them to have their peace despite the many guests while allowing them a clear view of the entire room.

Not that Mike needs it, with Harvey right in front of him, the familiar lines of his face looking softer somehow bathed in the light of the candle between them. Or maybe that’s just the smile on his lips, the look he gives him as they sit down that inexplicably has him flushing.

“So.” Mike clears his throat. “The food?”

“You’ll love it,” Harvey assures him. “I can recommend a few dishes if you want, but trust me, anything is amazing.”

“Okay, wow,” Mike mutters, scanning the menu the waiter hands him. “I see what you mean.”

It’s impossible to choose from the mouthwatering selection, so Mike simply relies on Harvey’s recommendation. He does have great taste, after all. The wine he orders for them is proof of that, the rich and sweet flavor complementing the appetizers they’re sharing perfectly.

“This is already so worth it,” Mike declares after his first bite, sighing. “I mean it,” he insists at Harvey’s amused smile. “Just look at me right now. I’m sitting across the table from my shiny new boyfriend, at a restaurant where people wait months to get a reservation, for all the world to see, _and_ the food is fantastic. I mean, what else could I want?”

“That’s how you think of me? As your shiny new boyfriend?”

“That’s what you’re focusing on?” Mike retorts, taking another bite as Harvey lifts an eyebrow.

“Can you blame me? I’ve never been described like that before.”

“Could have gone for boy toy,” Mike points out, nearly choking on his laughter at the scandalized look crossing Harvey’s face.

“Serves you right,” he mutters, his lips twitching. Then his face softens. “I’m glad you’re having a good time. As for showing off, well, I think we can do better than this.”

Mike opens his mouth to ask if he’s going to place an announcement in the New York Times to confirm their relationship to the public, but the words die on his lips when, instead, Harvey simply reaches across the table and takes his hand.

He blinks at the sight as Harvey weaves their fingers together, his heart beating entirely too fast. His hand is warm and solid, comforting in a primal way, and Mike marvels at how _great_ it feels to just hold it.

It’s monumental somehow, doing so. It’s a symbol as much as the basic desire to be close, proving beyond the shadow of a doubt that they are past the point where Mike still thought that his feelings were something to be hidden away instead of celebrated or lived out loud. That time is over, and it’s never going to return, and all the confirmation he needs for that, he finds in the gentle pressure of Harvey’s hand.

He only realizes that he got lost in thought, staring at their linked hands on the table in wonder, when Harvey’s voice cuts through to him.

“You’re smiling,” he says softly, his own lips curved upwards when Mike glances at him.

“Guess I am,” he agrees, dropping his eyes when he feels his cheeks flushing again. “It’s your fault. I’m happy.”

“Good. It’s nice, seeing you like this.” Harvey sobers, the lines on his forehead deepening. “I didn’t realize how little you were smiling these past few weeks until now.”

Mike squeezes his hand. “I did smile. You made me, even when I didn’t feel like it.”

“Not like this, though,” Harvey points out. His thumb brushes Mike’s. “But it’s alright. I’ll use it as a reminder to never let it get that far again.”

Mike blinks, shaking his head in silence. If he weren’t already so madly in love with this man, this would be the moment the last of his defenses would have broken down.

“It’s true,” Mike murmurs.

Harvey lifts an eyebrow. “What?”

“You _are_ a romantic.”

He huffs. “Shut up.”

“No, you know what? I don’t think I will. You, taking me out for dinner here, waxing poetry about my smile, vowing to keep me happy for the rest of my life, that’s just too good to pass up on.”

Harvey sits back, never letting go of his hand. “What, you gonna be a little shit about it?”

“You gonna try and stop me? I don’t think you want to take this from me, dearest. It does make me so _happy_.”

“You’re insufferable,” Harvey informs him.

Mike grins. “You love me.”

“Yeah, I really do.” Harvey looks amused when he doesn’t have a retort ready. “What, you didn’t think I’d agree?”

“Not really, no,” Mike admits.

“Well, you had better get used to it. I love you, and there’s no way I’m ever hiding it again.”

“Jesus,” Mike mutters under his breath. Harvey may actually be out to kill him today. “Will I get a kiss to prove it, Mr. I’m-not-about-caring?”

“Down, boy.”

Harvey raises their hands to press his lips to his knuckles.

“Later,” he says, the underlying promise in his voice stirring a pleasant trickle of arousal in Mike’s stomach. “First, let’s enjoy dinner.”

“Trust me, I will,” Mike murmurs, swallowing at the sight of the artistically arranged food when their main course arrives. It smells heavenly, and it tastes even better when he tries it.

Harvey lets go of his hand so they can eat – he may be romantic, but he’s still too practical for shenanigans like that – but the food is so good that Mike is sufficiently distracted soon enough. He tries Harvey’s too, opening his mouth until he rolls his eyes and feeds him a bite.

It’s without a doubt one of the best meals Mike has ever had, though he has to admit that the food is only of secondary importance. The setting and ambience of their dinner plays into it, of course, but Mike knows that they could be sitting in a shabby diner over burgers and milkshakes and he would still feel the same way, and not just because burgers are awesome.

What really matters is Harvey, sitting across the table from him, gracing him with that smile that makes Mike’s heart skip a beat every time all evening, holding his hand at every chance he gets. Their conversation is one they could have had anywhere on any other day too, but it still feels special somehow, because this is a _date_ and they’re together now and it’s all very official and new and exciting.

He gets even more excited when Harvey starts caressing his wrist, giving no indication that his thoughts are straying from the innocent side save for the teasing smile on his lips.

Until he starts brushing his ankle underneath the table. And doesn’t stop.

Mike throws him a look.

“Something wrong?” Harvey asks innocently. Mike would love to kiss that expression off his face, but he just smiles, enjoying the subliminal arousal stirring in him.

“Not at all,” he says, slowly dragging the tip of his shoe up Harvey’s leg, because he wasn’t born yesterday and two can play that game.

He grins when Harvey licks his lips. “Good,” is all he says, but his voice is just a tad too low to fool him.

Saying that they are playing footsie beneath the table would be ridiculous because they are grown men and they can control themselves in public, but it’s more or less what they’re doing. Harvey’s cheeks are flushed as well when they finish eating, probably from the wine as much as their continued teasing. His finger drags over the rim of his glass as he gazes at Mike.

“Do you want dessert?”

“You mean other than the sex we’re hopefully having after this? Of course I do.”

Harvey snorts as he waves their waiter over, and Mike happily accepts the menu he hands them. The main course left him full already, but he isn’t about to pass up on a sweet treat.

Harvey scans the selection before he puts it down. “Well, I know what I’m having.”

Mike smiles, closing his card as well. “Peruvian Dark Chocolate?”

“Got it in one.”

“Yeah, I think I’ll have the same. You know, since it’s a special occasion.” He leans back. “You think it’s seventy percent cocoa?”

Harvey smirks. “Let’s find out.”

It proves to be a fantastic choice. Mike curses under his breath at the sight of his dessert, and again when he tries it. The flavor of the chocolate melts on his tongue instantly, the dark taste familiar, if a little richer. His eyes meet Harvey’s.

“Seventy,” they agree at the same time.

“It’s amazing,” Mike sighs, taking another piece. With the chocolate came a cup of Cuban coffee with cardamom, as well as a cassis sorbet that is just to die for.

“Shit, Harvey. This is _good_.”

“You sound surprised. Didn’t this entire evening convince you that they know their food here?”

“God, just shut up and enjoy this fucking amazing dessert, will you?”

Harvey chuckles. “So lippy,” he mutters, the smirk on his lips telling Mike that he knows full well what kind of effect the words have on him.

“How you like me,” he teases him.

They’re done too soon, though Mike has to admit that he couldn’t have eaten another bite if he’d tried. They decide against getting another drink, not to cut the evening short but rather to continue it elsewhere. Harvey pays, ignoring Mike’s declaration that it’s his treat next time, and helps him into his coat in true gentleman fashion before he holds the door open as well.

“Thank you for dinner,” Mike says outside, buttoning his coat against the cool night air. He’s still flushed from the wine and the pleasant anticipation inside him, and the sudden change of temperature sends a shiver down his spine.

“Thank you for letting me take you,” Harvey replies. “Did you enjoy yourself?”

Mike laughs. “Hell yeah, I did. I feel very spoiled, so. Good job there.”

Harvey smirks, smoothing down his collar. “I’m not done spoiling you by a long shot.”

“Oh no?”

“No.”

“But dinner’s over.”

Harvey steps in, his hands lingering on his chest. “The night isn’t.”

Mike mirrors his grin. “I distantly recall having work in the morning,” he points out.

“You heard Donna. We aren’t allowed at the office before ten anyway.”

Before Mike can think of anything else to say, Harvey closes the distance between them and kisses him in front of the restaurant for everyone to see. Not that Mike cares one bit about the people around them, or anything other than Harvey’s lips on his, the bittersweet taste of the chocolate still lingering on them.

He sighs, wrapping his arms around him, and when Harvey hums in approval, tilting his head for a better angle, he can’t help but chuckle with the delirious joy filling him.

It’s a bit hard to keep kissing like this, with both of them smiling too hard to really go on, but they manage.

Mike takes Harvey’s hand when they part, lacing their fingers together.

“Alright, you’ve convinced me,” he says lightly. Harvey grins.

“Let’s go home,” he suggests.

Mike smiles, tugging at his arm to pull him along. “Thought you'd never ask.”

*

The silence is almost meditative. Mike’s eyes are lowered to the floor, a tingling sense of anticipation spreading in him. Harvey is behind him to get something from the drawer. Mike can’t see him, but he feels his presence, knows exactly where he is without having to look.

He purses his lips to keep himself from smiling, exhaling slowly to calm his fluttering nerves.

In all their time together, Mike has never been this calm and excited about a scene at the same time.

It’s the first one since that night, since the kiss that made everything come crashing down.

It had to, Mike can see that now. They had to tear down what they’d built before to make room for this new thing that’s grown between them, a foundation more solid and unshakeable than the old one ever could have been, with both of them hiding in a place that required them to be seen.

Well, they see each other now, with perfect clarity. And they worked so well before, even when they weren’t honest, that only thinking about what could happen now makes his heart beat faster.

Harvey must feel it too, the changed atmosphere. They are both more open, more relaxed in their newly found security of knowing exactly where they stand with each other, and the deep silence seems to brim with everything passing between them, all the things they are going to do now that they’re here.

The possibilities are thrilling, and considering what a whirlwind the past week has been even outside of this room, Mike is more than ready to get started.

He looks up to meet Harvey’s eyes when he finally approaches him.

“I’ve been looking forward to this,” Harvey murmurs, which really doesn’t come as a surprise, because he has been smiling from the moment he stepped into the bedroom and he has yet to stop.

Mike just returns his gaze, not having permission to speak, but he trusts Harvey to see how much he agrees.

“You’re all ready to go, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“I see. Well, then this will be an exercise in patience for you, because I’m going to take my time with you today.” He smirks. “But first, your discipline. Get on the bed.”

Mike doesn’t see his face when he follows him there with the cane in hand, but he can feel his eyes roaming his body like a physical weight.

“Twenty strikes. You know the rules.” His voice is low and seductive with the promise of what’s about to happen. Mike tenses at the light touch when he traces his spine. “I want you to be as quiet as you can, but you can move however much you want.” His smile is audible when he adds, “I’d use the chance, if I were you.”

Swallowing, Mike nods. The telltale whisper of Harvey’s shirt sounds but a second later. Looks like he isn’t the only one who can’t wait to get started.

The sharp sting blooms between his shoulders with the slap still ringing in his ears, and Mike exhales quietly before he says, “One.”

The next one lands lower, a little harder now. “Two.”

God, he’s been _yearning_ for this. The pain wraps around him like it was tailored to him. Every strike hurts exactly the way Mike wants it to, the way he needs it to turn it into the deep, satisfying pleasure he’s craving.

“Three.”

Harvey knows precisely what it takes to get him there. The cane meets his skin again and again, leaving burning weals until he’s gasping, tense with the effort to take what Harvey gives him. Mike relishes the pain, having no trouble at all to let it carry him into the right headspace, already getting lost in the feeling.

It’s like a reflex at this point, a response to the onslaught of sensations so deeply ingrained in him that all it takes is a whisper of them to trigger the right reaction.

His breathing is loud in the quiet room. Even though Harvey sticks to a fairly regular rhythm of pace and momentum, the pain increases steadily, growing into something bigger and more persistent with every strike. Mike embraces the stinging heat, writhing to compensate for the ache of it.

He’s grateful for the permission to move, since making sounds isn’t an option. It gives him a semblance of control, at least a little outlet to channel the burn into.

“Twelve.”

Another one lands, persisting for a deliciously stretching beat. Mike arches away from the pain, allowing the movement to distribute the sting evenly.

“Thirteen,” he gets out through gritted teeth, the word barely leaving his mouth before Harvey gives him the next strike and he gasps without meaning to.

“Fourteen.”

God, this is amazing. It doesn’t feel like Harvey is just hitting him while Mike lies there and takes it, although that’s what it objectively is. He may be the one in control, but they’re doing this together. Harvey wields the cane and Mike responds to it, prompting Harvey to continue, keeping them in a steady rhythm of giving and receiving.

“Fifteen,” Mike sighs, blinking the tears gathering in his eyes away. His breath hitches when Harvey touches his shoulder, holding him down without real force, just hard enough to reinforce his position. Mike shivers at the casual demonstration of his power.

The warm weight stays when the next strike lands, his grip tightening as the pain spreads. Mike has no idea which sensation to focus on. He grasps the sheets with the effort to keep himself from crying out, from making a sound other than the grunt he just can’t hold back.

Harvey stops, licking his lips as he takes him in. Mike turns his head, trying to hold his gaze through the tears.

“I love when you do that. So much. My good boy. My wonderful, wonderful boy.”

“I love when you make me do that, Sir,” Mike murmurs breathlessly, forgetting his orders to keep still, too focused on Harvey’s words and that look in his eyes to care.

Harvey’s hand slides up to his neck, gripping his hair.

“Remember your rules,” he mutters, though his voice lacks real edge, and Mike nods to his best ability. The corner of Harvey’s mouth lifts as he gives his hair a tug.

“Eyes front.”

Mike regretfully averts his gaze. The last few strikes pass quickly, and he savors the aftermath of the pain in the silence following them. He could have taken a lot more, double or triple the amount if Harvey wanted him to, but he knows he has something else planned for him.

Harvey’s hand runs down his back. Mike sighs at the slight increase of the burn before it recedes again.

“You took that so well. God, just seeing how eager you are for me… you really love this, don’t you?”

Mike nods avidly, and Harvey chuckles.

“Yeah, you do. My sweet boy. I think you’re going to enjoy what’s next. I know I will.”

He puts the cane down, patting his hip. “Turn around.”

Mike rolls over, giving him an expectant look. Harvey takes his half-hard cock in with a satisfied smile before he meets his eyes, announcing, “I'm going to kiss every inch of your body now. And until I’m done, you are not allowed to move.”

Mike swallows, blinking rapidly at the images his mind is helpfully conjuring. “Every inch, Sir?” he asks before he can stop himself, his voice croaking.

Harvey smirks. “ _Every_ inch.”

He turns to get something from the drawer. “To give you a little help, I’m going to put these on you.” He holds up the handcuffs. “Alright?”

Mike nods, holding his hands above his head. His breath hitches when Harvey leans in to secure him. This is turning into a real challenge already, and he hasn’t even kissed him yet.

“What happens if I move, Sir?”

Harvey gives him a canting smile, the only proof he needs that he knows exactly how much Mike craves his touch, how wild he goes for the feeling of his lips on his skin.

“Then I’ll stop.”

Mike groans, throwing his head back. Harvey tuts, giving his hair the slightest pull before he draws back. It’s more affectionate than anything else, sending a warm shiver down Mike’s spine.

“You’re going to do just fine. You’ll be a good boy for me, I know it.”

Mike straightens with determination at the words, licking his lips. “I will, Sir,” he vows. The approval in Harvey’s eyes feels like balm on his burning skin.

He swallows when Harvey crawls over him, cradling his face.

“I’ve wanted to do this for ages,” he tells him. “You have no idea how long. Much longer than I even admitted to myself. Now that I can, I’m going to take my time with it.”

Mike nods.

“Remember your orders,” Harvey murmurs, giving his cheek a gentle pat before he leans in.

Mike holds his breath when his lips touch the crown of his head. He barely feels the pressure, but he hears Harvey inhaling deeply, brushing his hair before he moves on.

It feels strangely intimate, this kind of closeness. There’s nothing sexual about it, following no goal other than to be near each other, to give affection and accept it. Mike’s heart flutters at the aching tenderness of it. His fingers twitch with the desire to reach for Harvey and hold on to him, but he reminds himself of the rules and resists.

His hair gets a few more kisses before Harvey reaches his forehead, kissing along the lines appearing there as Mike gazes up at him. He smooths over them with his lips, then lingers at his temple.

His breath is warm, ghosting over Mike’s skin as he pays special attention to his eyebrow. Both of Mike’s eyelids get a kiss, the light touch leaving him smiling, and once he starts, he can’t stop.

The bridge of his nose is next. Harvey kisses a gentle trail down to the tip, then holds Mike’s chin, guiding it to the side. He covers his cheek with pecks, kissing along the bone until he reaches Mike’s ear, his breath tickling the shell as he presses his lips there too.

It’s a bit ridiculous, and a bit cute too, and Mike can’t help but chuckle at the light touch. Harvey joins in before he puts a finger on his lips, kissing the corner of his mouth.

“Shh,” he murmurs, gazing at him through his lashes. “Quiet, or I’ll stop.”

Mike presses his lips together, trying his hardest to get the urge to giggle out of his system. It’s only the prospect of Harvey actually stopping that helps him get a grip on himself. Harvey mercifully gives him a few seconds to compose himself, then removes his finger.

Mike takes a deep breath when he kisses his lips, nowhere near as gentle as the touch of his hand was. It’s deep and passionate instead, leaving him breathless as he teases his lips apart.

Mike isn’t sure if he’s allowed to kiss back, but there is no way he _can’t_ with Harvey’s lips on his and the yearning inside him taking over his entire thinking, and so he makes a small, urgent sound and returns the touch with all the enthusiasm and desperation he can express quietly. He just so resists the urge to pull him closer or cup his face, but not returning the kiss when he’s right there, that’s just impossible.

Really, Harvey must have known that.

He feels his lips curving into a smile, but he doesn’t stop, which is answer enough. He finally draws back only enough to look at him. Mike exhales deeply, but Harvey barely lets him take a composing breath before he dives straight back in.

The other corner of his mouth gets some loving next, then his cheek. Harvey kisses along the bone on this side too, then makes his way down his jaw until he finishes with a kiss to his chin.

Mike almost sighs in relief. Without the immediate proximity of Harvey’s lips to his, he might be able to control himself better.

Or not. Turns out that the immediate proximity of his lips to Mike’s pulse, the soft patch of skin behind his ear, the juncture of his neck and shoulder, and the countless other erogenous zones he wasn’t even aware of until now isn’t much better.

It’s incredible how affectionate and light the sweet touches make him feel, entirely too stimulating for how innocent they actually are. Harvey just has that effect on him with his demeanor, his intense focus, the unabashed displays of adoration Mike gets to receive.

He can feel his body responding to the closeness already, the pleasant tingle of arousal, but there’s no immediacy to it. It’s merely an expression of what he feels, a response to the treatment he’s getting, and Mike allows himself to simply acknowledge it, just feeling and enjoying it, the way he knows Harvey wants him to.

Harvey must be aware of his beginning erection, but he merely continues his exploration of his upper body. Mike just so manages to stay still despite the continued tickling, though keeping a straight face is impossible, and not just because of the physical sensation. At least Harvey doesn’t seem to mind his goofy grin as long as he doesn’t move otherwise.

Mike watches as he takes his arm, a smile on his own lips, then starts moving down from his shoulder.

He nearly loses it when Harvey nuzzles his armpit, just so holding it together until he moves on. Stopping at his palm, Harvey places a kiss right in the middle of it, then touches each of his fingertips to his lips. He squeezes them at the reflexive twitch they give in response, partly reassurance, partly a reminder to stay still.

He repeats the procedure on the other side until Mike’s limbs tingle with the urge to reach for Harvey, to touch him in _some_ way at least. It takes every ounce of effort he can muster to refrain from moving, and he sighs in relief when he eases off, nuzzling his neck before he returns to his chest.

Mike takes a sharp breath when his tongue darts out to taste the skin. Harvey hums, giving him another, more deliberate lick.

“My good boy,” he mutters, his breath hot on his skin. “How’s that?”

Mike exhales shakily. “Tickles, Sir,” he replies, which only draws a chuckle from him.

There’s no way his chest has always been this responsive, but Harvey somehow manages to set his nerves on fire wherever his lips touch him anyway.

Mike tries, he really tries to keep himself from moving, but it’s impossible. The sensation is everywhere, spreading through his whole body, the prickling excitement making him arch towards him entirely without his permission.

“Mike,” Harvey murmurs, halting just above his collar bone. “Hold still.”

Mike lets out a small whimper. A few endless seconds tick by before Harvey brings his lips back to his skin.

He isn’t exactly broadly built, rather the opposite, but it still takes a while to cover his entire chest with how thoroughly Harvey proceeds. Mike is not sure he could have kept it up in his place, probably too delirious with the excitement of having him right there to do with as he pleases to resist the temptation.

He barely manages as it is, Harvey’s orders echoing in his head the only thing keeping him from losing all control, but that’s why Harvey is the dom and he’s the sub in this. That’s why they work so well together, their strengths and limits complementing each other seamlessly, now more than ever.

He approaches his limits fast when Harvey reaches his nipple, grazing it before he sucks it between his lips delicately. With the arousal already circulating in his system, Mike gasps at the touch, biting his lip at once.

Harvey has stopped at the sound, an agonizing heartbeat passing before he resumes his light sucking and, finally, switches sides. Mike exhales quietly, thankful that he isn’t lingering. As heavenly as it feels to have Harvey doing this to him, it seriously tests his self-control, and he really wants to get this right.

He wants to be a good boy for Harvey. He wants to make him proud.

Harvey doesn’t make it easy for him, but at least he also refrains from anything that might be especially hard to endure. He simply goes about his task, keeping a steady rhythm he can hold on to, if nothing else.

Mike is acutely aware of his own body, of the points where it connects with Harvey’s again and again as he showers him with affection. He doesn’t draw it out unduly, but there’s an elaborateness to the procedure that Mike can’t help but admire. He remembers his promise from earlier, that he was going to take his time. He certainly wasn’t lying.

He lies as still as he can as Harvey moves down his chest, continuing his exploration with the patience of a saint. If Mike couldn’t feel his beginning arousal, he might have believed that he’s the only one affected by his actions. But he knows Harvey, and he knows all his little tells, giving away just how into this he is.

Mike’s stomach quivers when Harvey reaches his navel. He knows that his belly has seen better days, back when he still rode his bike all the time. But this is Harvey, who always tells him how beautiful he is, who kisses the softness around his middle like it’s the most precious thing in the world, who has already seen all of him and never once made him feel like he had a reason to be self-conscious about any of it.

He almost chuckles when Harvey nuzzles his flesh, belatedly remembering to keep breathing. Harvey just continues his explorations, steadily going lower.

He keeps his word. When he said every inch, he meant it. No part of Mike’s body is left untouched, uncaressed, uncherished, and the warmth Harvey leaves behind seems to seep directly into his core. He kisses parts of him that Mike never stopped to consider as loveable, as worthy of being shown this kind of affection, and it’s a bit funny and a little heartbreaking and so much more tender than he ever learned how to deal with.

In all his life, Mike has never felt this loved.

It takes him to his limits, keeping still when Harvey is this close, touching him all over, but the reward he’s getting is worth it. He never knew he could control himself this much, so used to giving in to his impulses, following his whims even when he knows he shouldn’t. He never knew he could endure like this. He couldn’t have when they started their scenes, he’s sure of that.

It’s amazing, how much strength Harvey is giving him.

Mike’s composure wavers again when he finally gets to his groin, moving from the juncture of his thigh to his balls.

Harvey shushes him when he lets out a whimper, his hot breath brushing his cock not helping the situation at all.

“Still, baby,” he murmurs. “Hold still for me. I know you can do it.”

 _You can do it_ , Mike repeats to himself. _You can do it. You can do it._

He barely manages. The urge to respond to the touches, to chase them and return them so that Harvey will know just how loved he feels is almost overwhelming, and the only thing that’s still keeping him from coming apart at the seams is Harvey’s voice in his head telling him not to.

If Harvey believes he can, then he will. His faith in him still leaves him breathless sometimes, but it must be there for a reason, and that’s all Mike needs to hold on.

His breathing is loud in the charged silence, but it gives him something to focus on, and the longer he keeps his attention on the sound, the easier it gets to maintain his state of motionlessness.

He makes it through. It takes every ounce of effort he can muster, but he makes it. He lies still as Harvey kisses his balls. He lies still as he leaves a trail all over his cock, his lips coming away with a wet glint when he kisses the leaking tip. He lies still as he moves down his perineum, despite every cell of his body yelling at him not to.

It’s indescribable. Mike doesn’t notice how worked up he is until he feels a drop of sweat running along his temple, the slow trickle offering only a marginal distraction.

The touches themselves aren’t even what’s getting to him, though Harvey clearly knows what he’s doing. It’s the amount of adoration in them, seeping into him until it fills all the empty spaces between his bones.

It’s evident in every brush of his lips, the warm weight resting on top of him, the touch of his hands. Harvey is letting go, too. This is an unadulterated expression of what they’re feeling, a pure and uninhibited display of their affection. They aren’t holding themselves back any longer.

Mike is acutely aware of his arousal, growing with every passing second. All this would probably be enough to make him come, the endless foreplay leaving him worked up enough for the touch of his lips to give him the rest. Part of him wants to, the primal side that craves to satisfy his urges. The rest of him is totally unconcerned with it.

Harvey is neither lingering nor moving on too soon, simply continuing explorations. He’s giving Mike a choice, leaving it up to him whether he focuses on the feeling or lets it pass him by.

Mike chooses the latter.

Another time, they are going to do this again. And then Mike will be allowed to move, and he will flip Harvey over and do the exact same thing to him, and there will be nothing holding them back from letting their arousal take over and have the best sex of their lives. But tonight isn’t about getting off. It’s about being close, sharing in this connection, and he doesn’t want to miss a second of it.

The immediacy passes when Harvey moves on to his legs, giving him a moment to collect himself. Even here he has erogenous zones, Mike discovers when Harvey kisses the hollow of his knee and a while later his ankle. He almost squirms when he reaches his feet, holding his breath nearly the entire time to withstand the tickling.

Finally, Harvey draws back.

“You have no idea how much I love doing this,” he tells him, his hand caressing his calf. Mike can make a guess, but he stays quiet, simply returning his burning look.

Harvey smiles. “Turn over.”

Of course. Mike should have known he wouldn’t content himself with doing half the job. He rolls over, inhaling sharply when his cock brushes the sheets.

Harvey gives him a second to find a comfortable position before he resumes his task.

He starts at the bottom this time, slowly making his way back up his body. Mike should be accustomed to it by now, but god, he is definitely not.

His fingers twitch when Harvey reaches his thighs, his lips brushing the underside of his cheeks. Mike flushes when he continues kissing along the soft flesh of his ass, gradually approaching the center, and it hits him that he isn’t going to stop there.

He should have expected this. He did, deep down. But he wasn’t prepared for how dirty it would feel. How _exciting_.

A whimper escapes him entirely without his permission when Harvey parts his cheeks, his breath hot on his exposed entrance. Harvey stills briefly, and Mike bites his lip, forcing deep breaths into his lungs. He just so manages not to move when Harvey resumes his actions.

It feels so much more intense than he expected.

It doesn’t last long, though the seconds seem to stretch endlessly. Once Harvey has kissed every inch there as well, never losing his cool while Mike’s heart is pounding out of his chest, he slides up to move on to his tailbone.

From then on, it gets easier. Mike’s back is still tender from his discipline, but the brush of Harvey’s lips is gentle enough not to irritate it further. The residual burn isn’t unpleasant, rather helpful in giving Mike something to focus on, and so he gets through the last part before Harvey finishes with a kiss to his nape.

“Turn around,” he instructs.

It’s nice to see Harvey’s face again, his eyes never leaving Mike’s as he cups his cheek.

“You did so well for me, baby. I’m so proud of you.”

Mike swallows thickly. “Thank you, Sir. And for my discipline as well.”

“You’re very welcome. Thank you, too.” Harvey shakes his head. “God, just look at you. I don’t know how I ever got so lucky.”

 _You’re one to talk,_ Mike thinks, but before he can say it, Harvey has leaned in to kiss him. He is clearly unconcerned about where he has just been with his mouth, and Mike couldn’t care less either – that’s what he showers for before coming in here, after all.

Harvey makes a low sound as he deepens the kiss, making the hair on his arms rise. He didn’t explicitly end the scene, but Mike decides to make a judgment call and wraps his arms around him, relishing finally being able to hold him. Harvey only groans, his tongue grazing Mike’s hungrily as he follows his lead.

He blinks when Harvey eventually withdraws, his chest heaving as he gazes at him in admiration. Mike feels it like a physical sensation, can barely breathe through it.

Harvey brushes his cheek, shaking his head as he murmurs, “Do you have any idea how much I love you?”

God, Mike will never grow tired of hearing that. Not in a million years.

He nods, and after what just happened, the way Harvey is looking at him, he thinks that for the first time, he actually does.

“I do now,” he tells him. Harvey smiles.

“Good,” he murmurs before he leans in for another kiss that Mike isn’t going to let end so soon this time, “that’s what it was all about.”

*

“So, it's the big day.”

Harvey stops short, narrowing his eyes. “Did I miss an anniversary?”

“Not unless we're celebrating one month, a week, and three days now. No, I mean, it's today. The six months are officially over.”

“Are they?” Harvey glances at the calendar, raising his eyebrows. “Huh, you're right. To the date.”

“Well, you know how it is with me and numbers.”

Like he wouldn’t have paid attention to the date even without his brain. Harvey just gives him a look, clearly thinking the same thing.

“And we both know you like it when I keep count,” Mike adds cheekily. “So, what happens now?”

“Well, since I’m guessing neither of us wants to terminate the contract, let’s just take half an hour to sit down and revise it, see if there’s anything we should amend.”

“Alright. Maybe tonight after dinner?”

“Sure,” Harvey agrees, and that’s that.

Mike shakes his head at himself. If only he’d known that’s all there is to it. If only he’d known sooner that of all the terrible, frightening things he imagined, none would happen. Because Harvey wants this as much as he does. Because Mike isn’t alone in this.

All this time he wasted making mountains out of dust specks, when all he had to do was to just stop and look at what was right in front of him.

But he knows now. That’s all that matters, in the end. He knows now that his feelings aren’t unwanted or wrong. That Harvey loves him the same way he does. That he was never the only one who was falling.

It’s the most liberating feeling he can imagine, having the security of knowing that.

Maybe for the first time in his life, Mike has exactly what he wanted. And while the novelty and excitement of rediscovering everything together has yet to wear off, it also feels familiar and fundamentally right to have reached this point at last.

Like they were always meant to end up here and finally figured that out.

“I have something for you,” he announces.

Harvey turns around, raising an eyebrow. “For me?”

“Yeah. It’s a present.”

Harvey’s eyes fall on the bag he’s holding, and though he tries not to let it show, Mike can tell that he’s curious. “What for?”

“Call it a little something for the special occasion, call it a courting gift, I don’t really care. I just wanted you to have it.” He holds out the bag. “Here. Take it.”

Harvey accepts it, looking inside. Mike bites his lip.

“You have to read what it says,” he explains, giving him an encouraging nod. Harvey glances at him, but does as he’s told.

“Turns out there _is_ chocolate that’s made of a hundred percent cocoa, and it’s not half bad.” Mike shrugs. “Well, this one isn’t.”

A smile spreads on Harvey’s lips. “You tried it already?”

“Well, I couldn’t give this to you only to have it taste horrible, could I? That would have defied my whole point.”

Harvey chuckles, and Mike clasps his hands together, grinning. “Go on. Try it. You gotta take it slow, though. Otherwise it’s too much.”

He watches Harvey unwrap the chocolate and break off a piece. His eyes are narrowed in concentration as he lets the taste unfold on his tongue before he meets Mike’s gaze.

“It’s quite bitter,” he announces. “But not unpleasantly so. It’s unfamiliar, but definitely not bad.”

“Right? The bitterness isn’t even all that prominent if you give it some time. It still tastes intense, but it’s rounded, I think. It gets this almost caramel-like base if you just wait a while, you know?.”

Harvey nods slowly. “I see what you mean. It’s… surprisingly creamy,” he mumbles, eyeing the label more closely.

Mike nods. “That’s because you’ve let it melt. That way the flavors can really unfold and register instead of overloading your brain when you chew it all right away.”

It’s very appropriate, or so he thinks.

“I don’t think you can eat a lot of it at a time, but it’s not bad, is it?”

“Not at all,” Harvey agrees.

“Apparently it just depends on what kind of bean you use. So, you know. Going all the way may backfire, but if you do it right and find a good composition, it _will_ take you somewhere amazing.”

Harvey takes a step towards him. Mike happily lets himself be crowded against the counter as he tilts his head, giving him an amused look.

“Are you calling our relationship a good composition?”

“Are you denying it?”

Instead of replying, Harvey just kisses him. Mike hums against his lips, wrapping an arm around him to pull him closer. He can taste traces of the chocolate on his tongue, stirring a familiar, cozy sensation in him.

Harvey smiles when they part.

“You do realize that I knew this, of course.”

“Of course,” Mike agrees, grinning. “Mr. A-hundred-and-ten-percent. I just thought it would be nice to emphasize the point.”

“It was.” Harvey pecks his lips, his smile growing. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Harvey slides another piece of the chocolate into his mouth, offering him one as well before he takes it to the kitchen.

Over his shoulder, he calls, “Did you fill out your paperwork?”

“All done,” Mike confirms. “It’s on your desk.”

“Good. I’ll drop it off at HR before my meeting later, and then this whole circus will be over.”

Mike sighs. “Can’t wait.”

They told Jessica a month into their relationship that they were seeing each other, at Harvey’s insistence. Mike didn’t mind letting her know, had been surprised Harvey had kept it to himself for so long, actually – she _is_ one of the people closest to him, and they had told all their other friends. But she’s also their boss, which meant that telling her was making their relationship _official_ official. Which isn’t a bad thing – Mike is all about that, really.

The paperwork, on the other hand, not so much.

“It’s almost done now,” Harvey tells him, probably reading his thoughts from his expression.

“I know. Thank god. I want to go back to enjoying the honeymoon phase with you.”

Watching him gather the documents, Mike purses his lips. “Hey, didn’t you-“ He hesitates. “Didn’t it kind of seem like Jessica wasn’t really surprised when we told her?”

Harvey throws him a glance, a mysterious smile playing on his lips. “No,” he agrees, “I don’t think she was.”

Mike frowns at him before he inhales sharply.

“You _told_ her?”

“I did not.”

“But you talked about this in some way,” Mike insists, narrowing his eyes. “About your crush on me.”

Harvey gives him a look.

“We had a conversation once, about doing things we shouldn’t, strictly speaking. I got the feeling she knew it was you I was doing these things with, though she didn’t know what they were, obviously. My _crush_ on you, as you put it, didn’t come up per se, since I wasn’t aware of it myself at the time.” He halts. “In hindsight, I think she might have been, actually.”

Mike blinks at that, choosing to file the information away for later.

“So,” he says, a grin spreading on his face, “basically you mean to tell me that she, as one of the people who knows you best, just had to look at you to realize that something was up.”

“I have no idea what you’re trying to imply.”

“I mean, I’m just saying. Jessica knew about us. Because you were acting like a lovesick puppy. Because you had such a massive crush on me.”

Mike has long stopped being intimidated by the looks Harvey gives him – outside of the bedroom, that is – and so he just grins brightly in response, not bothering to hide his glee.

“You’re one to talk.”

“You’re the one who got called out on it by your boss and oldest friend.”

Harvey narrows his eyes. “Lippy,” he mutters.

“You love lippy.”

He smiles. “I sure do.”

“God, wow.” Mike shakes his head. “If anyone had told me you would be this sappy in a relationship…”

Harvey lifts his eyebrows. “Sappy?”

“Sappy,” Mike confirms.

A challenging look comes into Harvey’s eyes as he steps closer, tilting his head.

“You sure about that?”

Mike swallows, holding his gaze. Harvey raises a hand to trace his bottom lip, smiling when Mike’s breath hitches ever so slightly.

Damn his treacherous body. Damn Harvey for knowing him so well.

“Fairly,” he gets out, his voice only croaking a little.

Harvey looks highly amused. Humming, he grabs Mike’s face with both hands and kisses him so deeply that it leaves him dizzy. Mike’s chest heaves when Harvey draws back, looking entirely too unaffected by the entire thing.

_Damn him._

“How about now?”

Mike clears his throat. “I don’t know. I mean, you smooching me for calling you a softie isn’t really-“

He gets cut off when Harvey dives back in for another kiss so sinful it should be illegal, which is really not fair when Mike is still recovering from the last one. But Harvey can be very persuasive when he wants to be, so Mike decides to just yield, because if it means getting kissed like that again, he’ll gladly surrender.

Harvey’s eyes sparkle when he draws back. His heart contracts at the sight.

So worth it.

“Are you done?” Harvey asks cantingly, and Mike gives him an innocent smile.

“I’m not saying anything,” he assures him.

Harvey smirks, and there’s triumph in his gaze, but the touch on his face is nothing but gentle when he murmurs, “Good boy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 100k words later and they finally figured it out! Hope it was worth the wait :)
> 
> I have no idea how time passed so quickly and this monster of a fic is now complete, but here we are! I just wanted to take a moment and thank every one of you who supported me and this story. I was pretty insecure about this fic, which was a total experiment for me as my first foray into BDSM, and all the love you showed me really meant so much to me, especially when I nearly lost my mind because this thing just wouldn’t stop growing. So, thank you for coming along for the ride! It’s been a pleasure <3

**Author's Note:**

> As always English isn't my native language, so if you find any mistakes feel free to point them out! Got any thoughts, concrit, or just want to say something? Comments make me extremely happy! <3


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